The Once and Future Queen
by jedijae
Summary: A kingdom searching for an heir. A witness ready to talk. A PI with an anonymous client. A failed hit attempt, and Anna and Elsa are on the run, police and villains in hot pursuit. Can they learn to trust each other enough to survive a plot that threatens Arendelle's very existence? mAU. M for language, violence, adult content.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Frozen and all its wonderful characters belong to Disney._

* * *

"Hail to the King!"

The drunken chorus followed Eric as he staggered out of the Fish and Barrel tavern onto the rain-slicked sidewalk. He turned to wave at his loyal subjects, but almost crashed to the pavement when his companion failed to turn with him. The buxom brunette, already teetering on four-inch heels and her balance compromised by too many vodka shots, collided with him, squashing her chest against his. He reached out to steady her, managing to get both hands on her breasts. When she giggled, he took it as tacit permission and pushed her up against the outside wall of the pub, squeezing and stroking and enjoying her breathless moans.

"Are you really going to be king?" she asked, her eyes heavy-lidded and glazed under the harsh light of the streetlamps.

"Oh yesh. I have the bloodline," Eric slurred out. He snaked his hands under her blouse and pushed her bra aside, fondling her nipples as he pressed his hips against hers. "Jus' waitin' for all the veri-..verif…paperwork."

The brunette slid her fingers along the front of his pants. "Something king-sized in here," she simpered. She worked his zipper open and slipped her hand in to grasp him.

"…Should make you my queen..." Eric bit and sucked her neck as she stroked him.

"Not here, though," she said, nipping at his ear.

"Right, right," he rasped, pulling back from her. Even through his alcohol-and-lust-induced fog, Eric recognized that screwing her up against the wall of a tavern on a public street was not proper behavior for a royal. And it was probably illegal too. He took a few deep breaths to try and clear his head. He'd have to take her somewhere.

But where? His guesthouse was only a few blocks from the Fish and Barrel, but this wasn't the best part of the city, and his rooms, which overlooked the fishing wharves lining the harbor, hardly fit his image of himself as royalty. He still didn't understand why the Chamberlain's Office wouldn't arrange for him to stay at one of luxury hotels near the Castle while they verified his claim.

 _I am gonna be King, after all_ , he thought. _It's not like the bill won't get paid eventually_.

He adjusted himself inside his pants and zipped his fly while the brunette - what was her name again? - straightened her clothing. Then he offered her his arm and his most charming smile. "Let's go to my hotel."

"You're not staying in the Castle?" she asked, her bottom lip pooching out in pouty disappointment.

 _No, you stupid cow, I'm not King yet_. Out loud he said, "Not yet. Once everything is official, I'll move to the Castle. For now, I'm at the Royale." That was a total lie, but Eric figured he could bluster his way into Arendelle City's most exclusive hotel. He wasn't King – yet - but he was _Baron_ Eric Solholm of Grøntfjell, and his title should be good for _something_.

Even if the holder of that title was completely and utterly broke.

"Oooh!" the brunette squealed. "That's almost as good!" She looped her hand around his bicep and pressed her breasts against him as they walked away from the pub. Eric thought he had enough cash to get a cab to the Arendelle Royale – he hadn't paid for a single drink all evening at the Fish and Barrel – and his credit card would get him into the hotel.

Given King Haldor's current health, Eric might be on the throne by the time the bill came due.

They turned up the alley next to the pub, making their way toward the main boulevard, staggering from both the alcohol and their attempts to kiss as they walked. Eric grunted as her tongue slid from his mouth and along his jaw to finally wind up in his ear. They banged against a dumpster, giggling madly. He pawed at her again, enjoying the feel of the large, soft breasts under her blouse.

A gloved hand flashed out from the shadows of the dumpster and yanked the woman away. Her scream died abruptly as the unseen assailant flung her headfirst against the opposite wall of the alley. She crumpled into a heap at the base of the wall and lay still.

"What the fu – !?"

Eric whirled to run, but his back slammed up against the dumpster, a hard forearm pressing against his throat, cutting off his air. Spots swam in his vision. He grabbed at the arm, fingers scrabbling for a grip against smooth fabric. The pressure increased. Eric thrashed wildly, panicking as he fought for breath.

"Imposter," a voice hissed in his ear. Through his dimming vision, Eric caught a glimpse of cold green eyes, a glint of moonlight off metal. Something hard and cold pressed against his temple. "Whatever made you think you could be King?"

* * *

The meeting took place in what appeared to be an unused vault below the basement level of the Arendelle National Bank. Metal shelves and safe-deposit boxes lined the foyer behind the thick steel door, whose old-fashioned combination lock had been replaced with the latest in biometric palm-print readers, along with a standard PIN-entry keypad. Only the combination of an approved palm print and valid eight-digit PIN allowed one to turn the wheel that opened the door.

The vault had in fact been a bank vault once upon a time. Then when it looked as though the countries of the Continent might turn in on one another with weapons of annihilation, an enterprising (and paranoid) banking mogul had decided that if the government of Arendelle wasn't willing to provide appropriate shelter for its most important citizens (like himself), then he would spare no expense in protecting himself and others like him from the apocalypse. Once the fallout had settled, they would emerge to lead what was left, even if what was left was nothing but rubble and vapor.

So the vault was turned into a bunker with living space for a dozen or so people, accessible only by a high-speed elevator, with a couple of months' worth of supplies. As years passed and the chances of a war of total extermination looked less and less likely, the bunker's purpose had changed. In addition to being covered by tons of dirt and a highly secure banking building, the bunker's super-thick steel walls had been supplemented by a copper coating, to further protect from electronic eavesdropping. It was now a meeting place for a small group of people, few of whom held official government power, but had their fingers on the pulse of everything important in Arendelle.

This group didn't particularly like coming to this underground meeting place. It was inconvenient, despite being located in the heart of Arendelle City's business district, and too cloak-and-dagger-ish for most of their tastes. But they understood the need for discretion and secrecy, and if there was one place they could get together without fear of their conversations being scooped up by prying electronic ears, this was it. Many of the matters discussed at these meetings were illegal; tonight, they were murderous.

Tonight, they would plot the killing of a woman. It was distasteful to most of them, though they all of them agreed it was necessary. Most of them even believed it was for the good of Arendelle, though it was mostly for the good of their own private agendas. But now another life was also involved, and this one had caused the meeting to become rancorous.

"So along with Kjarensen, we have to kill a National Police agent?" one man asked. "Are you sure that's necessary?"

Eckbert Weselton, the man at the head of the conference table, nodded vigorously, his large head wobbling on top of his skinny neck. He was about at the end of his patience with the bickering. "Yes, yes it is, if we want to maintain our business positions here."

Weselton had organized this group, made them see their common interests despite the fact that they were often competitors. He threatened and cajoled them, and convinced them that his way was most often the best way to success. He was right more often than not, a fact that was neither lost on his colleagues nor ever failed to stoke their resentment. Resentment that was usually quashed as their individual fortunes continued to grow.

Now those fortunes were about to be placed in peril. Arendelle faced an existential crisis, and it seemed that no one in the government was taking any reasonable steps to try and avert it. Oh, there was a search underway, and claims investigated and discarded, but the fact of the matter was that without serious action on the part of this group, Arendelle would fall. True, it would put only a minor dent in the wealth of most of them – they were all too savvy not to be diversified – but the power, the influence – those were commodities that took time to build, and for all of them, that meant keeping Arendelle as it was.

Or with a few nudges here and there, maybe even making it better than it was now.

Weselton rose from his chair to pace, one of his many nervous habits. His compatriots called him Duke, but not for the reasons he imagined. True, generations ago his family _had_ ruled a Duchy on the Continent, but a series of poor decisions on the part of his multiple-times-great grandfather had led to the fall of that land and its eventual absorption into a larger power. But the nickname didn't come from what he imagined to be his regal and charismatic presence, but from the "scepter up his ass," in the words of one colleague.

As the CEO of Northern International, Arendelle's largest and wealthiest corporation, Weselton had his fingers in almost every major industry in the country. Fisheries, shipping, banking, energy - even ice harvesting, though that was mostly a tourist industry these days. Along with that wealth came access to the country's power brokers, money being the key to every door worth opening. His compatriots in this room might not like him, but they respected him, both for his business acumen and the utter ruthlessness of his climb from the pit of his family's devastated fortunes. Weselton's rising tide had lifted all of their boats.

Another man, this one a high-level Castle official, spoke up. "I'm still not completely convinced it's necessary to terminate the woman, but killing a NP agent can only lead to disaster."

Heads nodded around the table, and Weselton paused his pacing. "Not having to eliminate the agent would be ideal, of course, Minister," he said. "However, the fact is that the NPs have her under 24/7 surveillance. The only time she's exposed is when she goes to the cabin. They may place her in witness protection at any time, with no warning. We have to move on her at the safe house."

The lone woman at the table, the Botoxed, collagen-injected president of a prosperous cosmetics company, said, "So we get eliminate Kjarensen, but let the agent live. Why borrow more trouble?"

Weselton shook his head. "Too risky, Gothel. It would be a loose end. A loose end dangling inside the country's most resourceful police agency, I might remind you," he said with a bite in his voice.

"For God's sake, Duke," the first man protested again, "do you know what will happen if the NPs tie this back to us?"

Weselton turned beady blue eyes on him, peering out from behind pince-nez glasses that had gone out of style a hundred years ago. "None of us got here without being able to keep secrets, Rosholm, especially secrets of this magnitude," he snapped. "Surely I don't have to remind you that lives have been lost for this before."

Silence reigned for several minutes, as Weselton's words reminded them that they were all in this until the end, that past decisions and actions were now driving the present ones.

Another member of the group scooted forward in his chair. His hoodie and jeans, along with his wild mane of red hair and abundant freckles made him look like a student, and he was, in fact, decades younger than everyone else at the table. But Pine's voice commanded the same respect as all the others. He had made his original fortune designing a rather addictive social media site, but unlike many others his age who'd found the same type of success, he had not been a one-hit wonder. He'd kept growing his empire through laser-like focus, shrewd business decisions, and the occasional brutal arm-twisting.

"Have we considered another scenario?" Pine asked. "We're eliminating Kjarensen to halt or at least slow down the Erikksen investigation. Is there another way to accomplish that goal? Don't we have people in NP headquarters? Can we apply some pressure to get them to drop the investigation? Then there's no unnecessary killing, which means no unnecessary scrutiny."

Weselton opened his mouth to respond, but a dry chuckle from the shadows along the edge of the conference room stopped him. "You really want to try to persuade the NPs to give up their biggest corruption investigation in years so that we can manipulate the future of the country?" the voice said. "And where would you like to spend _your_ prison term? For this crime, I guarantee it won't be house arrest in a Castle guestroom."

A tall man stepped into the light. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, a handsome man, expensively dressed. His dark auburn hair fell stylishly over a high forehead, and sideburns of the same color framed a strong jaw. Those who had noticed him earlier had simply assumed that he was one of Weselton's bodyguards, but closer inspection revealed that to be false. The man's green eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence that was conspicuously missing from Weselton's thugs.

"Who the hell are you?" Gothel demanded.

The auburn-haired man waved his hand dismissively. "That doesn't matter right now, although I can assure you that I have as much at stake here as you do."

"That's difficult for us for us to believe without knowing who you are and what your stake is," Gothel retorted.

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust me on this one, Gothel," Weselton said. Gothel snorted. Trust was a commodity in short supply in this group. "Our young friend here has provided much of the information we needed to put this plan into action."

The young man continued, "What does matter is the information coming out of the NP headquarters, and none of it indicates that they would be willing to back off the Erikksen case. Suggestions to the contrary will only draw unwanted attention to our people."

"And you don't think murdering an agent will bring undue attention?" Rosholm said. "Do you know how cops react to cop killings? The NPs will go on a crusade to find whoever is responsible! Then where are we?"

Grumbling and nods of agreement circled the table, and Weselton looked around at his colleagues nervously. The people in this room formed a shaky alliance. They were all powerful and successful, and used to keeping their own counsel. It was a miracle that he had managed to bring them together at all, much less keep them on the same course for so long.

What was that phrase about hanging together or hanging separately?

The young man grinned, and the grin was so wide, so incredibly handsome, that everyone around the table fell silent, transfixed. Weselton imagined he could actually _feel_ the balance of power in the room tipping from himself to the auburn-haired man. Perhaps he had miscalculated in allowing his young trump card to attend this meeting.

"Of course the NPs will do everything in their power to solve the murder of one of its agents, as well as the murder of the primary witness in their most important investigation in years," the young man said. He picked up the pitcher in the middle of the table and poured water into one of the crystal tumblers. "I propose we give them the answer." He sipped his water as they all looked at him curiously.

"What answer is that?" Pine asked.

"The answer that we want them to have. That after years of helping Erikksen with his dirty little scheme, Elsa Kjarensen had an attack of conscience. Or paranoia. Or whatever. Either way, she went to the National Police and started telling them everything she knows. Right now, Erikksen has no idea that she's turned on him. Nor does he know that we're planning to kill her. Only we know that."

"What's your point?" Rosholm asked.

"My point is, the NPs may suspect that he knows about her betrayal, or that he might find out in the near future. If he does find out, then no one, I repeat, _no one_ , has more motivation to kill Elsa Kjarensen than Agdar Erikksen."

"And?" Rosholm persisted.

The auburn-haired man rolled his eyes. "And," he said patiently, as if talking to a slow child, "we tip the NPs that Erikksen and his clients found out that Kjarensen double-crossed them, and had her and the agent murdered."

"But when they grab Erikksen, he'll tell them everything!" the minister protested. "We'll all be exposed!"

The auburn-haired man put his face in his hand and shook his head. His contempt was almost palpable. Then slowly it dawned on the group what the man was talking about.

"So we tip the NPs about Erikksen posthumously," said Gothel. "Three murders rather than two."

"Problems with that?" Weselton asked.

Silence. Distasteful as it was, it seemed the only feasible course of action.

"Very well," Weselton said. "I'll make the arrangements."

That question settled, the tension in the room eased marginally. The auburn-haired man withdrew back into the shadows at the edge of the room.

"Any further news from the Castle?" Pine asked.

"He remains in critical but stable condition," the minister replied, quoting from the latest medical report out of Arendelle Castle. "Given his age and mental state, it is only a matter of time. However, there is no sure projection of how much time may be left. We must be prepared to move forward as soon as an announcement is made."

"Have any new claimants been found?"

"The playboy from Corona still appears to have the strongest case, but his lineage hasn't been verified yet," Weselton said. "And apparently a penniless baron from Grøntfjell turned up at the Castle a few days ago, claiming to be a distant cousin. But he's a drunk and a womanizer whose personal debt may actually exceed that of the entire country. Quite frankly, I'm surprised more lunatics haven't come out of the woodwork, given what's at stake."

"How is the background for our own claimant proceeding?" Gothel asked.

"We have enough to get him a hearing," Weselton answered, his eyes darting over to the tall auburn-haired man.

"Do we have all the votes we need?" Rosholm asked anxiously.

"Yes," Weselton reassured. "Erikksen has one last meeting to make to ensure we cannot be denied, and then his usefulness is at an end."

* * *

 **A/N:** Here we go, we'll see if this works. Hope you'll stick with me - this is a pretty complex story in my head, and getting it onto paper (screen?) the way my brain sees it is proving to be a bit of a challenge. You can see there are already characters involved that I wasn't able to list in the summary! But Anna and Elsa will be here soon!


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Disney owns these characters. I'm just messin' with 'em._

* * *

The small wood cabin stood alone at the top of the rutted dirt road, resting on half-acre or so of cleared land, surrounded by thick woods. The remnants of what once may have been a stable squatted at the edge of the property. The road itself was little more than a trail, trees crowded against its shoulders, low-hanging branches threatening the finish on any car that dared navigate it.

For most of the last several decades, the cabin had sat unoccupied, except for the occasional hikers who wandered too far from the established trails, or teenagers looking for a place to get high and hook up. It had once been a trading post, a place where ice harvesters and reindeer herders stocked up on supplies during their travels. But the main roads had bypassed it more than fifty years ago, and it had fallen into disuse. The nearest town was five miles away by car, but less than half that if one was willing take on a steep hike through the dense forest.

There was one person taking that challenge tonight.

In the forest a half-mile behind the cabin, Anna Aarndahl splashed through a shallow creek, hissing as the icy water soaked through her cargo pants. Normally she would have just hurdled the creek, but tonight, with her boots slipping over the wet leaves and pine needles, such a jump would most likely end with a face-plant in the mud.

Brown mud splattered her pants legs as she clambered up the creek bank, grabbing onto a branch for support. She leaned against the tree to catch her breath. A few sweaty strands of copper-colored hair had escaped her braids to cling to her cheeks, and Anna pushed them behind her ears.

Anna _thought_ she was in good shape, but her pinched shoulders and aching quads screamed otherwise. Apparently her workout routine fell a bit short in preparing her to navigate the wooded mountainsides outside Arendelle City in the middle of the night.

 _I should really increase my fee for this one. It's a helluva hike out here, and I swear it's uphill both ways._

At least she didn't get lost this time. Who knew that topographic navigation would be such a challenge? And she'd finally found a use for that compass app on her smartphone.

Anna pulled a water bottle from the mesh pouch at the side of her pack and took several large gulps. She could think of several reasons for upping her daily fee for this job, and some were actually related to the job. The cost of gas to drive out this far. New boots to replace the ones that had made this trek several times already.

Yes, legitimate reasons that had nothing to do with a cheating boyfriend, a blown security deposit, and several months' rent on storage space that she no longer needed.

She hadn't even been all the way moved out.

 _He has to be the dumbest thing I've ever done_. And that was saying something.

 _Focus, Anna. Cabin. Job._ She put her water bottle away, adjusted her pack and set off again, slapping at a mosquito that buzzed around her ear.

Yep, she was definitely increasing her daily fee for this job.

Despite her repeated trips, the punishing trek hadn't gotten much easier. Tonight's full moon helped, but upped the creepiness factor, casting eerie shadows in the spaces between the trees. The only sounds she heard were her own breathing and the rustling movements of unseen wildlife. Rabbits, squirrels and deer were still plentiful this far out of the city, and a distant howl reminded Anna that wolves still roamed the forests of Arendelle.

Anna slowed as she approached the edge of the woods behind the cabin. When it came to tracking and tailing and watching people and their activities, she had learned from painful experience that being deliberate and systematic was usually the best approach.

You just always had to be ready to improvise.

She figured she could run pretty fast if she needed to, but just in case, she took a minute to chamber a round in her 9mm and put the safety on. The touch of the cool metal settled her nerves. She had never fired the Walther anywhere but at the practice range, but the weight of it against her hip was reassuring. You never really needed a gun until you _really needed_ a gun.

Crouching next to a tree, Anna cocked her head and listened for a few minutes. The only sounds were those that belonged – the breeze blowing through the trees, the chirp of insects, and the movements of varmints in the underbrush.

Satisfied that she was the only human present for the time being, Anna reached into her pack and pulled out her digital SLR camera. She adjusted the settings, attached a telephoto lens and brought the camera to her eye, making a slow sweep across the property. Then she flipped down the lens' attached tripod, steadying it on the ground, and took several shots of the back of the cabin.

Squatting back on her heels, she studied the cabin. When she accepted this job from an anonymous client, she figured she'd be spying on a love affair. That impression seemed to be confirmed the first evening she went to the cabin. A nondescript car arrived, and a large, attractive blond man got out with an even more attractive, even more blonde woman, and they disappeared inside for a few hours.

But a couple of things niggled at Anna about that scenario. For one, the pair didn't _act_ like lovers. She'd never seen them kiss, or hold hands, or even touch at all. No shared smiles or easy conversation. Maybe they were playing it cool, but why? No need for that out here. They could have freaky sex on the porch and only the wildlife would see them. If they were screwing, it seemed to be strictly business.

And if it was strictly business, why come all the way out here? This wasn't an easy place to get to, even by road, and there were plenty of places in the city to meet for a quick lay, wasn't that what pay-by-hour rooms were for? Unless this place was a lot nicer on the inside than the outside, a no-tell motel probably had better amenities.

 _Or_ , Anna thought sourly, _you can always take her to your apartment and fuck her in the bed you share with your girlfriend_.

God, she hated men. Well, no, not really, but she seemed to have the world's worst judgment when it came to picking them. Or maybe they were all impossible.

 _Or maybe it's just me who's impossible._

Anna shook her head and brought her attention back to the cabin. She'd made some discreet inquiries about the owner and found him legit. He'd inherited the cabin over a decade ago and had never been able to do anything with it. He was probably happy as hell that he had been able to get someone to sign a full year lease on the dump, with all the rent paid up front, in cash.

The renter was another story. After several days of digging, she had yet to pin that one down. Dead ends on every path.

There was enough weird about this whole setup that Anna's natural curiosity had kicked into high gear. She wanted to get inside. She wanted to figure this place out.

Her problem right now was that she couldn't tell if anyone was in the cabin. She couldn't see a light on, but that didn't mean that there wasn't an interior room that she couldn't see from out here. She needed to check the front of the house to see if there might be a car parked there. The traffic had been pretty sparse during her previous trips out here. No joggers or hikers, and no bike or motorcycle riders. The couple of cars that had come up the dirt road had all turned around, obviously lost. All but the one with the woman and the man, who stayed to get to up to…whatever.

Anna put the camera away and slung her pack onto her shoulder. She skirted quietly along the edge of the trees, taking care to stay back in the shadows. No cars at the front of the cabin, and no lights inside. Fishing in her pack, she pulled out a lock pick set in a zippered pouch. Feeling around it, her experienced fingers quickly located the tools she wanted.

Anna had already checked out the locks during one of her daylight trips, using her telephoto lens as a spotting scope. That had really piqued her curiosity. Both the front and back doors had high-quality deadbolts. Sash locks on all the windows. All the hardware was shiny and new. All on a piece-of-crap rental in the middle of nowhere.

To top it all off, the cabin also had a security system, which came as both a thrill and an unpleasant surprise.

If she were really smart, Anna thought, she would pack up her felonious tools, head home, and report failure to her client. Because as soon as she got the door open, she would be guilty of breaking and entering. If caught this time, she would be dealt with a bit more harshly than she had been as a teenager.

But she was curious. And stubborn. And prided herself on doing the job right. Her anonymous client was paying her a lot, and she wanted to deliver. Word of mouth went a long way in her business, and she could always use a couple of deep-pocketed clients.

And she was unlikely to get caught.

 _Besides, when's the last time I did the_ smart _thing?_

Getting into the house wouldn't be too hard, especially since Anna already had the code for the alarm. Well, at least she was pretty sure she did. The keypad for the security system was mounted right inside the back door. Once she had confirmed that the house was indeed wired, she had beaten the couple out to the cabin one evening and positioned herself as close to the back door as she could without being seen. Her nifty new sweeper had plucked the electronic code right out of the air as the man punched it in.

That gadget was definitely worth the time and money she had put into it. It had taken some playing around with the decryption coding to make sure she matched the keypunches correctly, but Anna figured she'd get at least three tries to disarm the system.

And if she screwed it up, well, she could run really fast if she needed to.

Anna held the tools in her mouth while she pulled on a pair of latex gloves with textured fingertips – her hands were already sweating and she didn't need to drop the pick tools in the mud. And leaving fingerprints behind would be a bad idea.

The breeze had moved the scattered clouds to partially cover the moon, and Anna took advantage of the lower light to slide out of the tree line and make it quietly to the back door. She slipped off her muddy boots, dropping them on the scraggly grass next to the back porch. It wouldn't do to announce her presence by leaving dirty boot prints all over the inside of the cabin. A good PI stayed as invisible as possible.

She took out a thin flashlight, holding it between her teeth while she inserted the tension wrench and pick into the door lock. Her cousin Eugene swore by pick guns, but Anna had found that her deft touch with the tools was quicker. And _she_ didn't leave tell-tale scratch marks all over the lock.

Applying a bit of torque to the tension wrench, she began to feel her way along with the pick, her fingers sensitive to the dancing of the pins, the subtle descent of the tension wrench. A few seconds later there was a quiet _snick_ , and she felt the bolt slide back.

 _A pick gun is faster, my ass_. _Eugene can bite me._

Anna eased the door open and slipped inside.

The alarm panel's beep broke the silence, its LED casting a rhythmic red pulse across the dark hallway. She looked at the backlit keypad for a moment, biting her lip, then took a deep breath and punched in a six-digit code. The panel beeped again, louder than she expected, making her jump, but the LED turned green and Anna exhaled in relief.

"Yes!" she hissed quietly, giving herself a mental fist bump. She stuffed the pick tools into her cargo pocket and closed the door, her excitement at her success making her forget that she was now officially a grown-up criminal, and a felon to boot.

* * *

Anna wasn't the only one in the woods surrounding the cabin that night. On the side of the house farthest from where Anna had come through the forest, Fritz Schlager pulled his rifle back, and the red dot of the weapon's laser scope disappeared from between the young woman's unsuspecting shoulder blades as she slipped through the back door of the cabin.

Schlager, a powerfully built man with thick muttonchop whiskers, didn't know who the woman was, and didn't know what she was doing there. He hadn't even seen her until she made her break from the tree line. He guessed the wind had covered the sounds of her movement.

He shifted in his firing position next to a stump and checked his watch. The targets would be arriving soon, but he didn't know how the red-haired woman in the cabin fit into the plan. She wasn't one of his targets, and she obviously wasn't with the police; police officers didn't sneak through the forest in the middle of the night, or pick locks to break into people's houses. Cops rolled up with lights and sirens and massive shows of force.

But since his boss had not told him beforehand that there would be a third person, the woman was not part of the plan. She was a wildcard. The question now was how to deal with her.

He shifted again and worked out a kink in his neck. He'd been out here since dusk, taking time to plot out his firing position and make his escape plan. But he was a patient man, able to tolerate lengthy waits without losing his vigilance. Waiting to take life had a way of keeping one alert. Killing wasn't something his employer frequently required of him, but he had done it often enough to appreciate that being so close to death made him feel that much more alive.

His hand ran up along the barrel of his rifle, checking the security of the suppressor at the muzzle. It was one of the better suppressors he'd used, affecting neither the balance of the weapon nor the velocity of the round. The velocity was the most important – one or both of his targets could be wearing vests, but his jacketed rounds should take care of that possibility. More velocity also ensured more damage to the body, thus increasing the probability of a kill.

Schlager was confident he could take down a bull reindeer with his rounds.

His firing position was only about forty yards from the house, just inside the tree line, close enough that with the moonlight, he didn't really need the expensive scope. He was tempted to remove it just to test his skill, but smooth completion of the job was his boss's priority. Despite the leaves and branches, he had a clear field of fire – after all, a bullet only needed an inch of space to do its job. He'd been told that the targets would enter the cabin through the back door, but they would never make it that far.

Making a kill out here was almost too easy. The isolation, the distances between dwellings, the cover of the forest – all of it made for a simple shoot-and-scoot scenario. Unlike the city, where everything was complicated by buildings and crowds, where it was more difficult to find a place to set up a shot and get away cleanly, and both cops and potential witnesses could be only yards away. Out here, whatever target he put the red dot on would go down with one shot, and he would be gone as soon the bodies hit the ground.

His escape route through the woods would bring him to an abandoned barn where he had stashed a car. A few hours after the job was done, he would be back in the city, the car in a chop shop, and his weapon at the bottom of the fjord.

Schlager's eyes flicked back to the cabin, where the red-haired woman was still inside. He decided that if she stayed inside when the shooting started, then he would go with his original plan and escape through the woods. If she came outside or otherwise got in the way…well, ammunition was cheap and therefore, so were humans. The only difference would be that there would be three bodies rather than two.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm going to try to keep up with a weekly posting schedule. I have a 5-chapter cushion at this point, but the World Cup is proving to be a distraction.

Hope you enjoy! If you like it, hit the review box! If you don't like it, hit the review box and let me know why. I'm always up for some constructive feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Frozen is all Disney's_

* * *

Elsa Kjarensen leaned back against the headrest in the passenger seat of the unmarked sedan, which cruised along at exactly the posted speed limit. The beginnings of a headache tapped along her temples, and the combination of too much coffee and too little food had her stomach grumbling in protest. She had tried to catch a nap, but her anxiety overcame even the dull hum of the tires on the road, so she settled for staring out the window instead.

The car turned off the highway, and below the exit ramp, Elsa could see a train making its way toward Arendelle City. For moment she imagined that it was leaving the city instead, and that she was on it, on a winding track headed high up into the mountains, where she felt most free, where she could think and _breathe_.

She blinked and reality returned, the one with Elsa still in a car that was leaving behind the gas-vapor lights of the highway and rolling along a two-lane road where the sedan's headlamps were the only source of light besides the moon.

She was tired, so tired already. Tired of the cloak-and-dagger pickups, tired of the odors of fried food and stale coffee that permeated the car, tired of the long drives and the unending forest along the road. But mostly she was tired of the endless questions and wondering if she had done the right thing by coming to the NPs in the first place.

"Why couldn't Inspector Bjorgman pick me up tonight?" Elsa asked. "He led me to believe this was biggest case he's working on."

National Police Agent Persie Norberg replied, "The biggest case, yes, but not the only one. He said he'll be out if he can, but it's not likely. Besides, you and I aren't exactly strangers. It will be just like the other times we came out here. We'll just talk. You can pretend I'm Kristoff if you want. Just picture me with more hair and less belly." He smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but it just irritated her instead.

He turned the sedan onto another, narrower road, where the trees crowded closer and Elsa felt as though she was being pinched through a funnel without knowing exactly what awaited her at the end. Norberg glanced over at her, and she had the distinct feeling that she made him uneasy, though she had no idea why. Still, that hadn't stopped him from looking at her legs every time she crossed or uncrossed them.

"It's just for tonight," he went on. "From here on out, you'll be with Kristoff. "You're pretty comfortable with him, right?"

"I'm not sure 'comfortable' is a word I will ever apply to this situation," Elsa said dryly.

She folded her arms around her body and crossed her legs again. Her skirt rode up a few inches above her knees at the movement, and Norberg's eyes flicked over her thighs again. Elsa worked mightily not to roll her own eyes. Men could be so predictable.

Objectively, Elsa knew she was beautiful. Along with her intelligence and poise, she knew her looks had helped her career. Good looks always helped, no matter how much she would like to pretend otherwise, especially when dealing with men. Tall and slender, with long shapely legs that never failed to draw people's gazes, Elsa's looks got her through the doors, and into the places where she could bring her brains to bear to accomplish her goals. She had no problem with that.

And if the facts weren't enough, well, she wasn't above using her other assets. She'd gotten more than one councilor to sign onto her ideas simply by crossing her legs, or letting one high-heeled pump dangle from her foot. Elsa talked about sustainable power, clean energy and air quality, and the councilors stared her toe cleavage and bobbed their heads like drinking birds. God, testosterone made men stupid. It was every woman's secret weapon.

"I think that the word 'comfortable' should apply to this situation," Norberg was saying. "Inspector Bjorgman is one hundred percent in on this. In fact, without him pushing at headquarters, I'm not sure this case would be going anywhere. You haven't given us much." He looked at her expectantly.

Elsa refused to rise to the bait. Any exchange that happened was going to be done on her terms.

When she didn't reply, Norberg went on, "But Kristoff believes you. As long as you don't do anything that shakes his confidence in you, everything will be fine. He'll be your most powerful ally. We're going to take care of you."

"It's nice to know you all think so highly of me," Elsa murmured.

Norberg shot her a look. "You have to work with us, Elsa."

"I know," she sighed. "It's just so – I mean, you picked me up in an alley three blocks from my office. We changed cars twice before we left town. We're going to a broken-down cabin ten miles from nowhere in the middle of the night. It's all a bit much, don't you think?"

"We couldn't exactly take you into Headquarters. You're going to be the star witness in the biggest corruption investigation in years, and if it leaks, well, there could be all kinds of problems. This place out here is safe."

"It seems too far out of the way to completely safe," she said. "What if we're followed?"

"Elsa, look around. No one can follow us out here without being seen," he replied. "We know what we're doing. We had another unit as a tail until we turned off the highway. Relax."

Even as he said this, he glanced in the rearview mirror, and then down at the cell phone in the console between them. Elsa wondered if he was now wishing for some kind of backup, as if he were just now becoming aware of their isolation. He wiggled in his seat, turning toward her slightly. His suit jacket gaped open with the motion, giving her a glimpse of his bulletproof vest, and the gun he carried in a shoulder holster. She suddenly felt quite clammy, her palms damp and her silk blouse sticking to her as a bead of sweat ran down between her shoulder blades.

She shifted in her seat, turning to face him. She had really wanted Bjorgman here tonight, because she really needed to get her arms around everything that was happening, to regain some semblance of control over the situation. That might not be possible, given the magnitude of the events and how hard the NPs were pushing her. Maybe it was better that Norberg was here; she could poke and prod around the edges, maybe get an idea of their thinking.

"So what do I get out of all of this?" Elsa asked. "We've discussed it peripherally, but we've never come to a firm agreement. I'm taking a lot of risks."

"You came to us," Norberg reminded her, mild reproof in his voice. "No one twisted your arm."

Yes, she had come to them, and so far, none of it had gone like she planned. "You didn't answer my question."

Norberg frowned as he fiddled with the car's temperature controls. "I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?"

He sighed. "I can't, because I don't know. Kristoff can tell you more, but you haven't really given us anything we can work with yet. I can tell you that if you lay it all out for us, everything will be okay. You give us what we need, and we roll up your boss and all of his cronies. Then if you want, you can have a new identity renting out motor scooters at some beach on the Med, or whatever floats your boat, while they become long-term residents in the basement of the Castle."

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to imagine Agdar in a dank cell in the dungeon of Arendelle Castle. A small sound escaped her. _No_.

"Don't think too much about it, just get through it. We're on your side here," Norberg said. "In fact, we're the only friends you have."

Elsa's vague original notion was that she might be able to work a deal for both her and Agdar; that she and her mentor could roll over on their dirty councilors and get immunity for their part in the biggest corruption scandal in Arendelle's recent history. It looked like she was going to have to adjust her plan.

She thought she would be pitching this idea to Agent Bjorgman, but it might be better to try it out on Norberg first. She and Kristoff Bjorgman had hit it off to the extent that they were capable of – they were both reserved, observers more than talkers, and more than a bit mistrustful of people in general. But they also circled each other warily, like two dogs eyeing the same bone. Bjorgman saw things in black and white, while Elsa's world held many shades of gray.

"I want Agdar in on this," she said finally.

"What?"

"We need Agdar too. I know I can get him to come in," Elsa insisted. "If you have him, you have so much more. Together we can make your case even stronger."

Norberg stared at her like she'd sprouted a second head. "We can't make a deal with the guy who cooked up this whole thing in the first place. He broke the law."

"But if you understood why he did it, you—"

"I don't _care_ why he did it," Norberg interrupted her. "According to you, he bribed multiple members of the Nasjonsting, along with government employees, and possibly people on the Castle staff. It's corruption, pure and simple. That's all I need to know."

"What if I say you have to take him to get me? Both of us or neither?"

"Then I say you're not as smart as you look. Don't do this to yourself, Elsa."

"I guess I'll have to talk to Inspector Bjorgman."

"Go ahead. I guarantee he'll tell you the same thing."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see. I can be persuasive," Elsa said.

Norberg let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, we're not the ones making these decisions. Who gets a deal and who doesn't is up to the Prosecuting Authority, not to us. They're the lawyers, we're just the cops. Do you really think the PA is going to take down a bunch of high-ranking politicians and let the guy who set them up walk?"

"But - "

"Come on, Elsa, I thought you were smarter than that. You should understand politics. You know that if Erikksen walks while the councilors go to jail, the politicians will scream loud enough to echo off the North Mountain. Hell, with a couple of the people you've hinted at, it might, just maybe, be enough to actually get the _king's_ office involved. No lawyer who gives a reindeer's ass about his career is going to let that happen. They'll drop the hammer on both of you first. Trust me, I've been doing this for almost twenty-five years and I've seen it happen before."

Elsa sagged back against the seat, her confidence melting away like a snowflake in July. With all the time she had spent in the halls and offices of the Nasjonsting, how could she have failed to account for the political angle? A vision of Agdar slumped in a dark dungeon cell, his proud face sallow and gaunt, crept into her mind before she could stop it.

She closed her eyes. No, she could not allow that to happen. She had to make Bjorgman and Norberg and all the lawyers see that she was right, that Agdar had to be given immunity too. He had to be protected.

"Why do you want to bring him in, Elsa? What do you owe him?"

 _My mentor, my friend, the closest thing I've had to a father for years, the one person in my life who's always believed in me?_ Who else but Agdar would have taken a chance on someone like her then, a naïve, socially awkward nineteen-year-old? Even with her graduate degrees, there had been plenty of better bets out there.

But Agdar had seen _something_ in her. He had taken her under his wing, introduced her around, and taught her about the inner workings of Arendelle's parliament, the Nasjonsting. He nurtured her confidence. He refused to let her squirrel herself away in a cubicle. Under his patient guidance, she had gone from a girl who could barely make eye contact with a barista to a woman who found herself in the offices of the powerful, making the case for legislation and funding to protect and nurture Arendelle.

Agdar had given her the tools and the confidence to do all that. To stand on her own two feet. What did she owe him? What could she say besides 'everything?'

So she said nothing.

But her relationship with Agdar had slowly changed. He had started to withdraw from her, becoming reclusive and talking to her less. He traveled without her, to places he refused to tell her about. More and more, she had no idea what he was working on. He locked himself away, pushing his even his most favored clients off on her. He lost his temper over trivial matters.

Then he did something he had never done before: he lied to her. It had been over such an insignificant thing that Elsa didn't even remember what it was about, but it devastated her. When she confronted him, he lied about lying to her.

Finally came the most shattering blow: he suggested that it might be best if she left his firm. Left him. She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd slapped her.

 _You'll be fine, Elsa_ , he'd said.

Then it had dawned on her that maybe someone was onto Agdar and his scheme, and terrified by that thought, she asked him straight out about it. He denied it straight out, and refused to meet her tearful eyes as he insisted that she leave.

Like she was a disappointing child being told to get out of her father's house.

After hours of debating with herself, several crying jags, and one night spent with a bottle of Brennevin sinking into a morass of drunken self-pity, she had decided to go to the National Police. She wasn't sure if they were onto him or not, but thought it might be easier if they cooperated. They could both get immunity in exchange for what they knew.

But now doubts closed in on her from every direction. How could she have been so stupid? They wanted Agdar to go to prison.

"I need to use the bathroom," Elsa told Norberg.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes," he protested.

"I can't wait that long," she replied. "Take the next right, and there's a tavern about a quarter-mile down."

"How do you know?"

"The wonders of Google."

He looked at her suspiciously, but made the turn and pulled into the parking lot of the small tavern. Elsa guessed it catered to whatever locals lived in this isolated area; there were only a couple of vehicles in the lot. She got out and made her way inside.

The few patrons in the darkened interior paid her little attention, but the bartender looked her over appreciatively. She ignored him as she crossed to the women's bathroom, where she locked the door carefully behind her before going to the toilet and throwing up what little she'd eaten that day.

* * *

Agdar Erikksen slumped over his desk in his darkened office and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. His eyeballs felt dry and gritty under the lids. It had been another long day for him, bouncing between meetings with councilors about his pet issues and fielding phone calls from clients who were becoming irate over his lack of time for them. Now his long day had stretched into another long night, the latest in a series of long nights that were starting to take a toll on him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, still thick and strawberry blond, but with gray making rapid inroads around his temples. Sighing, he reached for his travel mug, which had become his most constant companion in the last several months. Black coffee was rapidly becoming the only remedy for his exhaustion, and he found that he needed it in ever-increasing amounts. He took a sip and grimaced. The stuff was strong enough to stand a spoon up in it. His gut protested as soon as the hot liquid slid past his throat.

Agdar glanced at his watch. He could finish up here in the next half-hour, and maybe, just maybe, catch three or four hours of sleep before he started over again. He bent over the small notebook, scribbling his thoughts, making connections, noting what he needed to flesh out or follow up on.

An outside observer would have found the scene puzzling. Agdar's office was equipped with all the technology one might expect in a modern workplace, yet Agdar hunched over the desk, his nose almost touching the surface, pressing pen to paper. His computer monitors were the only equipment in use, and then only to provide light for him to write by.

Agdar no longer trusted his technology. Computers could be hacked, phones tapped, offices bugged. His current project, the one that had started as a favor years ago, had slowly become a duty, then a mission, and now an obsession. And all of it – every thought, every detail – was kept in this small leather-bound journal that never, ever left his possession.

He jerked his head up at the sound of footfalls in the outer office. It was way past time for the housekeeping staff to be gone. Agdar closed the journal and crammed it into his suit pocket just as the knob on his office door rattled. His hand darted to his phone, thumb hovering over the Emergency Call button as the door swung open.

A short, skinny silhouette of a man stood framed in the doorway, large head swaying atop a scrawny neck. The man's hand reached inside and flipped the light switch. Agdar squinted against the sudden brightness, watching as Eckbert Weselton sauntered into his office, swinging an ivory-handled walking stick.

Weselton unbuttoned his suit jacket and made himself comfortable in the chair across from him. A tall red-haired man followed him in, taking up a position against the wall near the door.

"Good evening, Agdar," Weselton greeted. ""Burning the midnight oil again?"

"What do you want, Weaseltown?" Agdar asked.

"Weselton!" the little man said sharply. "It's Weselton! And considering that you essentially work for me now, I think a little respect is due!"

 _Very little._ Aloud, "How did you get in here? This building is supposed to be secured at night."

"And it probably is, for most people," Weselton countered.

Agdar curled his hand around the arm of his chair, resisting the urge to reach across the desk and punch the smug grin right off the little troll's face. "What do you want, _Weselton_?" he ground out.

"Tsk, tsk, Agdar. I think our relationship is such that we can use our Christian names. I'm polite enough to use yours. Given my generosity toward you, I think you should return that courtesy."

Agdar fumed quietly. "To what do I owe the courtesy of this visit, _Eckbert_?" he asked, trying and mostly failing to keep the loathing out of his voice. Weselton looked offended. _I'll be damned if I'm calling you Duke._

The little man sniffed. "You need to go to Sornland tomorrow and buck up Councilor Brunsvold. I hear he's been losing his faith recently, and we need to keep him in the fold, so to speak."

Agdar stared at him impassively, but his mind churned. Councilor Brunsvold had indeed been expressing doubts about the "pension program" Agdar had set up for him. Whether the councilor was having an attack of conscience or just losing his nerve, he didn't know. How Weselton knew about Brunsvold's doubts was something Agdar pushed aside for now. Weselton seemed to know everything about his 'beneficiaries.'

"Why do I need to go to Sornland?" he asked. "I can see Brunsvold when he returns to town after the recess. In fact, I was planning on it."

"You don't need to know that," Weselton snapped. "You just need to do what you're told."

"You don't own me, Weaselltown!" Agdar shot to his feet, looming over the little man, clenching his fists. His vision narrowed until it was focused only on the man's oversized nose, a target begging to be struck.

"Oh, but I'm afraid we do own you, Mr. Erikksen. And perhaps we just want to see how high you go when we say 'jump.'" The tall man detached himself from the wall and swaggered over to the desk. "One phone call to the National Police about your little pension program and you and all its beneficiaries will go to prison."

Agdar pressed his hands down hard on the surface of his desk, trying to rein in his temper. They were pushing every one of his buttons, and he didn't trust himself to stay calm. "And you are…?" he managed.

"Oh, how rude of me," Weselton said. "Agdar, meet Hans Westergard."

Westergard extended his hand. Agdar shook it, more from reflex than anything else, his mind racing.

"Hans Westergard? As in Westergard Export Brokers?"

"The same. I'm the managing agent here in Arendelle."

"Why are you with - " Agdar broke off, his thoughts flashing back to his notes, sorting information, making connections. _No. No, it can't be._

"We're as concerned for Arendelle's future as you are, Mr. Erikksen," Westergard said.

 _I doubt that._

"And what we're working on will have a much more lasting impact than any of your eco-crazy proposals," Westergard went on. "In fact, the continued existence of Arendelle depends on us."

Agdar froze as he considered Westergard's statement. Were they trying to manipulate the succession? Had they found someone? He tried to process the implications.

Rolling his eyes to hide his concern, Agdar said to Weselton, "Do all your associates harbor such delusions of grandeur?"

Westergard stepped toward him threateningly. Agdar stood his ground, fingers curling into hard fists. _Bring it, pretty boy._ He suddenly itched for a fight in a way that he hadn't since he was a much younger man. Westergard's smooth, handsome face had probably never been the victim of so much as a playground spat, while Agdar's nose marked him as a veteran of several youthful tavern brawls.

"Enough, Hans," Weselton said. "Do you have any questions about your visit with Councilor Brunsvold?"

Agdar eyed him for a long moment. "Do you lose even a wink of sleep over sacrificing Arendelle's well-being to further your own selfish interests?"

"Don't get self-righteous with me, Agdar," Weselton retorted. "You're obviously not above using illegal means to advance your own agenda. I daresay you wouldn't be facing this situation if you hadn't turned to bribery. Who are you to deny us the same privilege?"

Agdar had nothing to say. His pension scheme was an idea born of desperation, of his anger at seeing Arendelle exploited, his anguish at watching what his country had become in the hands of men like Weselton. A nation of haves and have-nots, where money bought power, and the needs of the country fell second to the needs of the few at the top. Agdar had attempted to fight fire with fire, and now he was getting burned.

He'd never felt so helpless.

"Besides," Weselton went on, "as Hans said, we're working to secure Arendelle's future. Just as you are."

Agdar coughed to cover a derisive snort. No sense in antagonizing the little troll any further.

Westergard put a briefcase on Agdar's desk. "This is fully equipped," he said. "There's a pinhole camera here," he pointed to the top corner of the briefcase, "and a mic. Just twist the handle to activate the recorder."

"Make sure he talks about everything you're doing for him after he leaves office," Weselton instructed. "The do-nothing job, the 'retirement' payments, all of it. The more details, the better."

"Right."

"Don't worry, Agdar, it's almost over. Brunsvold is the last piece we need."

"It better be. You come here again and you may not walk out under your power."

"Threats, Mr. Erikksen?" Westergard sneered. "From one lonely, corrupt consultant? Oh, right, maybe not so lonely. You do have an army of one. How _is_ Elsa doing?"

It took all of Agdar's self-control not to launch himself across the desk. "Elsa is not part of this," he snarled. "She will never be part of this. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ah yes, the Ice Queen, Elsa Kjarensen," Westergard said, his smile predatory. "Cold but beautiful, pure, incorruptible. One flash of those thighs and she could convince the Nasjonsting to unanimously appoint her the next ruler of Arendelle."

Agdar stiffened, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Stay away from her, Westergard."

"You're hardly in a position to give me orders, Erikksen," Westergard said, examining his fingernails. "Besides, I was only commenting on her rather… _obvious_ charms. What's that delightfully crude American expression? 'I'd hit that?' Oh, yes, I'd definitely hit that."

Now Agdar was around the desk, grabbing the loathsome man by his lapels and shaking him hard enough to rattle teeth. They scuffled for half a minute before Weselton's nasally voice cut through the room.

"That is enough!" he screeched, slamming his cane against Agdar's desk. "This is getting us nowhere!"

Agdar shoved Westergard away and retreated behind his desk, panting. Westergard smoothed his coat with a smug smile.

Weselton pointed his cane at Agdar. "Stop worrying. _You_ are the only one in the crosshairs. At least for now. As long as you continue to cooperate." He stood up. "Go home, Agdar. You have an early train to catch. We can't have you falling asleep during your meeting with Brunsvold."

Weselton jerked his head toward the door, and he and Westergard slithered out like the snakes they were.

Agdar slumped back into his chair, shaking all over. He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead until his trembling stopped. Ever since Weselton pranced into his life in those ridiculous high-heeled wingtips, Agdar had become little more than an errand boy. He was turning the people he had been bribing for years- with his own money – into unknowing tokens in the game Weselton was playing. But until tonight, Agdar had little idea of what that game might be.

Weselton had made a mistake in introducing Westergard. The younger man was full of himself and talked a bit too much. If Agdar was interpreting his arrogant statements correctly, they were working toward the same endgame, although with different outcomes in mind.

He dug his journal out of his pocket and opened it to a fresh page, where he scribbled 'Westergard – connection?'

Arrogant or not, Hans Westergard was a dangerous man. It had taken him only minutes to assess Agdar's weak points, and even less time to start prodding at them. Agdar could not afford to underestimate him.

More late nights, more digging, more working around Weselton's demands. Agdar had a feeling he was now in a race against both time and Weselton, with Arendelle's future as the prize for the winner.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to those of you who have left reviews, and have faved/followed this story! The action will start to pick up in the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading, and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Frozen still belongs to Disney_

* * *

Anna closed the door behind her and swept her flashlight back and forth across the hallway. At first glance, the inside of the cabin seemed to be in no better shape than the outside. Warped floorboards creaked beneath her sock feet, and her flashlight revealed scarred wood plank walls with peeling paint. A musty odor tickled her nostrils.

The first door she opened off the hallway led into a bedroom. There was a full-sized bed, made up with an old-fashioned floral quilt, and a dresser with a mounted mirror near the door. A bi-fold closet door was on the opposite wall. A thick layer of dust coated the furniture. The musty odor was noticeably stronger in here.

 _Eww…nobody's having sex on_ this _bed_. Anna wrinkled her nose as her flashlight played over what looked like patches of mold on the bedclothes. She crossed the room and open the closet, cringing when the rusty hinges squealed like nails on a chalkboard. The closet was empty – not even a single hangar – and unfinished, with corroded nail heads protruding from the uncovered wall studs.

 _This is too weird_ , Anna thought as she slid the closet door shut. She left the bedroom and opened the door directly across the hall. A second bedroom, this one with threadbare wall-to-wall carpeting. The dust in here was just as thick, and the stink so strong that Anna had to hold her nose as she moved about the room.

This room was a bit larger than the one across the hall, but in no better repair. The support joists jutted through breaks in the plaster ceiling, and water, probably from a roof leak, had seeped down the plaster wall and pooled on the carpet. She pushed at a discolored spot with her toe, jerking it back as water seeped through her sock.

The linens on this bed were moldy and undisturbed as well. A quick inspection of the closet showed that it was also empty and unfinished.

Anna left the room and just stood in the hallway for a moment, her bewilderment and apprehension rising together. She had been certain that Elsa Kjarensen was using this place as a love nest, but there was no way that anyone was having sex in these bedrooms.

Not unless one or both partners had absolutely no sense of smell, or had an erotic asphyxiation fantasy about choking on mold spores.

 _What the hell is going on here?_ Anna shivered despite the stale air in the house. Her common sense was telling her to get out, send what she had to the client and collect her paycheck. But her inquisitive nature, her desire to solve this puzzle, was spurring her on.

The bathroom looked a little better. The sink was clean, though there was dust caked around the counter, and there was toilet paper on the roll. The toilet itself looked ancient – the brass tank mounted high up on the wall, a long chain-pull instead of a handle for flushing. Old copper pipes ran from the tank down to the bowl.

Anna yanked the chain-pull. The tank let out a loud _crack!_ and she leaped back, stifling a cry as the brass monstrosity wobbled on its mount.

"Oooh, please don't fall, please don't fall!"

It would be just her luck. She could picture the headline – _University Place Woman Crushed by Ancient Toilet; Ex-Boyfriend Gets the Dog and Estate worth 61 Kroners._

But the tank stayed put, the water flowed unhindered into the bowl, and she heard the tank refill. So someone was maintaining the plumbing. Another sweep of her flashlight revealed a dusty condom wrapper jammed into a corner. A wigged-out part of her mind wondered if the visiting couple did the deed astride the old john instead of in the bed.

 _You're getting loopy, Aarndahl_. Maybe she was breathing in too much mold. But still, it was the cleanest place in this dump so far.

As she moved on down the hall towards the front rooms, Anna heard a faint but audible _click_ from somewhere else in the house. She froze for a second, heart pounding, then reached back and pulled her 9mm from its holster. Flicking the safety off, she flattened her back against the wall, then swung both the pistol and the flashlight in a wide arc.

The beam revealed nothing. Anna slumped against the wall, feeling stupid. It was an old house, that was all, and old houses made weird noises. The fact that it was dank and smelly and creepy was making her jumpy.

She swept through the kitchen, a small affair with peeling, fruit-patterned wallpaper, an old-fashioned icebox, and an ancient-looking gas stove. No table or chairs, just a rough-hewn wooden bar bracketed to the wall with a couple of stools next to it. There were no food smells, just a stale odor, and a quick check confirmed that the icebox was empty. No sign of water in the sink, no utensils, plates, or drink glasses anywhere. Nothing to indicate that the kitchen might have been used anytime recently.

Anna moved on to the front room, anxious to complete her search. In here, the old furniture had been pushed back against the walls, leaving tracks in the dust on the floor. In the middle of the room, someone had set up a card table and a few metal folding chairs. There was a space heater in one corner. A coffee pot sat on a small table off to the side, surrounded by paper cups, sugar packets, a powdered creamer bottle, and a box of plastics stirrers.

Anna studied the scene for a moment, more confused than ever. What were the Kjarensen woman and her big blond maybe-lover getting up to out here for hours at a time? Anna wasn't one to judge people on who or how they spent their sack time, but why come all the way out here just sit around a wobbly table and drink coffee?

Especially with that nasty powdered creamer stuff in it.

She played her flashlight around the room again, freezing when it passed over the front windows. They were boarded up. Anna wondered, with all the pictures she'd taken, how she could've missed that during her outside inspection of the house. She moved closer to the window and realized that the boards had been nailed on right over the curtains. Fragments of lacy fabric stuck out from around the plywood.

"This is just too weird," she said out loud, sliding her pistol back into the holster and pulling her camera out of her pack. She adjusted the settings and took several shots of the boarded-over windows, the table, and the coffeepot. She hoped all this would mean something to her client, because right now, she had no clue.

Anna put her camera away and swung her flashlight into the tiny foyer. A metallic glint caught her eye. Moving closer, she saw a small door set in the wall of the foyer, presumably a closet. The flashlight had reflected off the closet's shiny deadbolt lock.

Definitely a new lock – there was small pile of fresh sawdust on the floor right below it.

Anna scratched her head. Deadbolt locks on exterior doors were one thing. She could get that, even if the house was a dump, because they would at least keep out trespassers. But this whole thing was just screwed up. Why a security system? Why a new deadbolt lock on an _inside_ closet in a piece-of-crap cabin? And what was that humming sound coming from the closet? Now Anna felt her curiosity as an almost physical thing, wrapping her in an unbreakable grip.

Besides, she really hated locked doors. Especially when they were locked for no apparent reason.

She held her flashlight in her mouth and dug out her pick tools. As she selected the ones she needed, her mind sorted through the possibilities. Drug dealing? Maybe, but unlikely – there would be more security, probably armed goons, and the transport and distribution options were really limited out here. Money? Maybe the couple was stealing cash or valuables from her client and stashing them out here. That still didn't explain the coffee or the hanging around for hours. And it just didn't make sense when there were lots of places in the city for all that kind of stuff.

Anna's nimble fingers made short work of the lock. She eased the door open and peeked in, not sure what to expect. What she did see was one thing that had never occurred to her.

The red and green blinking lights of electronic equipment stared back at her. The humming sound she'd heard was coming from the system's fans. Anna furrowed her brow as she studied it. A small flat-screen TV sat on top of what appeared to be a network switch with several data lines running into it. Most of the lines were run from the ceiling down the unfinished wall of the closet, but the last one was connected to…

"Oh, _shit_."

A digital video recorder.

Anna dashed back into the front room, waving her flashlight wildly. As she ran the beam along the exposed ceiling joists, she saw a flash of reflection from one of them. She dragged one of the metal chairs over and climbed up on it, training her light where she thought she saw the reflection. Sure enough, she saw the tell-tale glint of light off glass, and probed at the hole in the wood beam.

A miniature security camera. _This just gets better and better_. She slid her hand over the top of the joist, her fingers closing around the wires that connected the camera to the rest of the system. Anna jumped off the chair and searched along the other ceiling joists until she had identified four cameras in all.

She thought back to the network switch in the closet and her heart jumped into her throat. What if someone was monitoring the cameras remotely? _They could be watching me right now._ She fought a wild urge to flip off the unseen observers.

Anna ran back to the closet and jerked all of cables out of the switch, depriving the DVR of its feed. She checked the rest of the closet thoroughly, but did not see any indications of an outbound connection. A closed system. Thank God for small favors.

 _Has it been recording the whole time?_ She had disabled the alarm before entering the cabin, so that couldn't have been the trigger. But it didn't make any sense to record when there was nobody there.

Then she remembered the faint click that had startled her earlier. She must have tripped a laser or motion sensor of some sort that triggered the cameras. _Shitshitshitshit_. Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities that such a setup suggested. None of them were good.

There may not have been anyone watching her in real time, but Anna's face was still on the DVR. In fact, it had probably gotten a really great close-up of her when she was looking for the cameras.

She turned on the TV and grabbed the remote, running the recording back. A flash of light obscured the view for a second, and then sure enough, her heart-shaped face filled the screen in all of its freckled glory. _Fuck!_

She fumbled her Walther out of the holster and cocked it, ready to put a bullet into the DVR.

A few shaky breaths later, reason prevailed. If she blew the machine to hell, it would immediately obvious to whoever was checking the equipment. Maybe she could get the hard drive out. She uncocked her gun and holstered it, then felt around the DVR, fingers searching for screws or latches that would allow her access to its innards.

There. Screws on the back. She reached for the multitool on her belt, but froze when the crunch of car tires on the dirt road outside reached her ears. She stood rooted to the spot for a moment as the car's headlights penetrated the cracks in the boards over the windows. Was it Kjarensen and her big blond companion? Goddammit, why hadn't they kept to their regular pattern?

Acting on instinct, Anna slung her pack over her shoulder, then grabbed the DVR and yanked it from the closet, leaving a tangle of cables in its wake. She sprinted down the hallway, flung open the back door and hurled herself off the steps, sliding when her feet hit the wet ground. She lost her balance and pitched forward, gashing her head on the DVR as she fell.

Expletives streamed from her lips as she picked herself up and bolted across the yard as fast as her legs would carry her. She hurtled into the tree line just before the car pulled around to the back of the cabin, its headlights sweeping across the yard. She never saw the red dot that danced briefly across her chest before she dove into the underbrush.

Anna lay on her back in the moss next to a tree, her chest heaving with exertion and fright. She hugged the DVR to her body with one arm and raised the other to her head, swiping across her hairline where she had smacked it. Her hand came away bloody, but there wasn't much she could do about it at this point.

She pushed herself to a seated position, intending to slip off through the woods and leave this disaster behind as fast as she could. _Oh no_ , she thought, staring at her sock feet. It would be a long painful hike without her boots, which she had left by the back steps in her haste to get away. Maybe the people in the car wouldn't notice them, and she could creep back up to the house and get them once they went inside.

She knew she ought to just leave the boots and run. Instead, she hunkered down next to the tree and watched as a brown sedan pulled up and parked. It wasn't the usual car, and the chubby, balding man on the driver's side was _definitely_ not Kjarensen's usual companion.

 _What the hell?_ Anna's discoveries tonight had pretty much ruled out the cabin being a love nest, but who was this new man being thrown into the mix? She decided to stick around and if she if she could pick up anything else. If the situation went south, well, she would scarper like she was Arendelle's first barefoot Olympic sprinter.

Elsa Kjarensen got out of the passenger seat and started toward the cabin. The balding man rounded the front of the car to join her. He suddenly froze, staring at the back of the house.

 _Oh shit, the door_. Anna's eyes darted to the back door, which she had left standing wide open during her escape.

The man pushed Kjarensen back toward the car. He whirled around as if looking for something, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

* * *

Fritz Schlager watched the scene unfold through the scope of his rifle. The red-haired woman's headlong flight from the house caught him by surprise. He'd gotten the scope on her and briefly considered dropping her, but did not do so for fear of alerting the targets in the approaching car. Hopefully, the she would just keep on running; this was the second time tonight that he had refrained from killing her. She should thank her good fortune and move on, because he certainly wasn't going to give her a third chance.

Schlager had adjusted his firing position. He was now kneeling behind a stump right at the edge of the tree line. His left elbow rested on top of the stump, providing stable support for his shot. He was slightly uphill of the house and had a clear view of the back door. With his jacketed rounds, he could probably take both targets with one shot, if they lined up right. If not, he would take the man first, as he was likely to be armed.

Settling his weapon firmly into the pocket of his shoulder, Schlager pressed his cheek to the stock and eyed his first target through the scope. Placing the red dot on the man's neck as he got out of the car, the gunman tracked him as he approached the house. At the edge of his vision, he could sense the blonde woman moving to join the man, but kept his attention on the primary target. He allowed himself a small smile as the woman moved into his focus. Yes, the targets were aligning themselves nicely.

He slipped his finger inside the trigger guard, pressing it lightly against the trigger between his fingertip and first joint. As the man in the yard drew his gun and turned, the two targets lined up in his sight. Schlager exhaled slowly, held his breath, and gently squeezed the trigger.

* * *

"Oh my God!" Anna yelled when the balding man's body jerked and fell, taking the Kjarensen woman down with him. She scrambled to her feet, ready to run out and help them. Something smacked into the tree next to her head with enough force to send splinters flying, and Anna dropped to the ground, not quite able to suppress a scream.

 _He got shot! Someone shot him!_

Dirt sprayed from the ground next to her foot, and terror gripped her as she realized that the _someone_ was shooting at her too. She scrabbled back under cover and pressed herself into the ground, trying desperately to become one with the earth. Another shot slammed into the tree near her leg. Anna prayed desperately that she would not die, and that she would not pee her pants.

The shooter had to be using a suppressor, because all Anna could hear at each shot was a loud _whap_. In her fear-addled state, the sound perversely reminded her of the way Sister Whatshername's ruler used to slam across her desk back when she was in school.

Trembling, Anna eased her hand back and snaked her Walther out of its holster, trying not to cry out when a red dot darted along the ground near her arm. Another loud _whap_ , and dirt sprayed her in the face. She couldn't stay where she was. The shooter seemed to be bracketing her; eventually he would find her. Moving as quietly as she could, she felt along the ground, and her hand brushed over the cool metal of the DVR.

Easing herself up to her knees, Anna grabbed the DVR and heaved it as far away as she could manage. It landed with a clank, followed immediately by the _whap_ of another shot that sent the DVR flying through the air. A muzzle flash near the tree line caught her eye, and she swung toward it, squeezing off half a dozen rounds in rapid succession. The Walther was much louder than the suppressed rifle, but Anna heard a shrill cry of pain, closer than she expected.

She kept her gun trained on the spot, ears ringing from the report of her pistol. She thought she heard the sounds of muffled cursing. A man-shaped shadow rose from the trees and took off through the woods. Anna fired another shot in his general direction, more to keep him moving than attempting to actually hit him. She listened as his footsteps receded into the forest and faded, then slumped over her knees, shaking like a leaf.

* * *

 **A/N:** Posting a little late this week - traveling cross-country for the next 4-5 days. Things will start to pick up a bit now. Thanks for staying with me, and let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating - been traveling on business and trying to keep my 4-5 chapter cushion._

 _Disclaimers: As always, Frozen belongs to Disney. Hate the Police belongs to Mudhoney_

* * *

Elsa cried out as Persie Norberg's body crashed against her, taking her to ground. He landed heavily on her, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her gasping for breath. Something warm and sticky ran down her neck, and for a terrifying second, she was sure she'd been shot. With a strength born of panic, she shoved his big body off and rolled onto her belly.

The loud crack of gunfire echoed in the woods. Elsa crawled over to the car and crouched next to the tire, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her heart pounded frantically and her mind raced, random thoughts careening around her head as she fought her rising hysteria. Who was shooting? Why? Why were they trying to kill her? _Norberg said there might be leaks, but I thought this place was supposed to be safe!_

She shot a look over at Norberg's body. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the mass of bloody pulp where half the agent's head used to be. _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_ … She fell forward onto her hands and knees, squeezing her eyes shut against the grisly sight. Her breath came in great gulps as she tried not to throw up.

A hand closed around her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. She half-screamed and stumbled, but the grip around her arm tightened, keeping her upright. "Keys?" a woman's voice demanded. A pistol swung across her vision and she tried to jerk away. The hand squeezed painfully around her bicep and shook her. "Do you have the car keys?!"

"N-no," Elsa stammered.

The hand released her and she staggered, bumping against the car. She saw a woman in braids digging through Norberg's pockets. The woman came up with the keys and turned back toward Elsa.

"Get in the car," she ordered.

"W-What?" Elsa struggled to focus.

"Get in the fucking car!" The woman seized Elsa by the arm, yanked the car door open and shoved her inside. Elsa cried out, but the woman ignored her, slamming the door and running around to driver's side.

The woman cranked the car, threw it into gear and stomped the gas. They fishtailed out of the yard, spewing dirt and grass in their wake, and roared off down the dirt road. Low branches slapped and snapped against the windshield, but they didn't slow down. The sedan bounced crazily along the rutted trail. The woman snapped at Elsa to put her seat belt on. Elsa dragged the belt across her body and fastened it.

They swerved onto the hardtop road, tires squealing. The woman slowed the car to the posted speed limit. She shot a glance at Elsa. "Are you hurt?" she asked. Elsa stared at her dumbly. "Damn it, are you hurt? Did you get shot? 'Cause if you're shot, we're going to have to take you to a hospital, and who the hell knows where a hospital is way the fuck out here, and they'll have to report it to the cops because they're required to report gunshot wounds and that will be a fucking mess-"

"No!" Elsa shouted, interrupting the tirade. She swallowed thickly and tried to collect herself. "No," she said finally. "I'm not…I'm not shot."

"Well, that's good," the woman said. "Because I have no friggin' idea where we would find a doctor around here."

The cell phone in the console between the seats buzzed, and Elsa blanched as the jarring lyrics of the ringtone echoed inside the car.

 _We hate policemen, yes it's true_

 _You can't find justice, it'll find you_

 _It'll find you_

 _It'll find you_

Neither of them reached for it.

"That's not my phone," the woman said.

"It's not mine either," Elsa retorted, appalled at the ringtone. Gruesomely ironic given what had just happened.

The music faded away as the call was either cut off or went to voice mail.

The woman cleared her throat. "So…you want to tell me what was going on back there? Who's the dead guy?"

Elsa stiffened in her seat. "I'm not sure I should tell you that."

"Are you in Witness Protection?"

"What?"

"Look, I checked out your…whatever he is… _was_ …when I was looking for the keys. I know he was National Police. He had a badge on his belt, and was wearing a Kevlar vest," the woman said. "Interesting ringtone for a cop."

"I'm not telling you anything," Elsa said. Her heart skittered as another thought occurred to her. "How do I know you didn't kill him? I know you have a gun. I saw it."

"Yeah, I have a gun, and surprise, it's actually legal. Registered and everything," the woman said. She raised her shirttail to reveal the pistol butt in the waistband of her pants. "But I didn't kill him. And if I wanted to kill you, I would've done it back there, not dragged you out here. What kind of fucking sense would that make?"

"Right." Elsa spoke with a bit more confidence. "So what do I gain by telling you anything? If you killed him, you'll kill me regardless of what I tell you."

The woman scoffed and shook her head.

"And I don't think you'll kill me just for not talking," Elsa went on, with more bravado than she felt.

The woman sighed. She made a right turn, and they drove on in silence for a few minutes. Elsa sank back against the seat, and began to shake as the enormity of what had happened sunk in. A man had been shot down in cold blood right before her eyes. And now she was alone in a car with an armed stranger who was taking her God knows where. She edged closer to the door, reaching for the handle.

The woman activated the door locks. "Sorry, can't have you jumping out. You'll kill yourself." Then she chuckled lightly. "Huh, I never thought I'd be the one in control of the locks."

"W-what?"

"This isn't my first time in a cop car. Usually I'm back there, though." The woman jerked her thumb at the back seat.

 _Oh God, she's a criminal_. Had one of Agdar's 'beneficiaries' found out Elsa was talking to the NPs and sent this woman to kill her? Or maybe she was taking Elsa someplace to be interrogated, to figure out how much she'd told them already. Elsa's mind spun with scenarios, not all of them completely rational. She covered her face with her hands.

"Hey, look, I'm not going to hurt you," the woman said, jerking Elsa out of her spiraling thoughts. "I promise. I just want to know what's going on. Preferably starting with who the dead guy is."

Elsa dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, her nerves in complete tatters. "I…he…I've never seen anything like that. I've never almost been…" Her voice cracked and she trembled violently.

She hunched over and wrapped her arms around herself. Her clothes squished under her hands. Elsa looked down and gasped. Her suit jacket and blouse were soaked with blood. Something stiff and tacky coated her neck and chest. She touched her hand to her neck, and it came away covered in blood, and what could only be… _Oh my God, his brains_ … She gagged, her stomach turning.

"Pull over!" Elsa cried.

"What? No!"

"Please pull over, I'm going to be sick!"

The car skidded to the side of the road. The woman hit the unlock button and Elsa shoved the door open, leaning over just far enough to throw up outside the car. It was nothing but bile, acrid and harsh in her throat. She wiped her sleeve across her mouth and hung limp for a moment, letting the seat belt support her weight.

A hand touched her back, stroking in soothing circles. "You're going to be okay," the woman said in a soft voice.

The woman grasped the fabric of her jacket and tugged, easing Elsa back into an upright position. Her hand was warm and gentle and stayed on Elsa's back, stroking until her trembling stopped. Elsa turned toward her. In the dim illumination of the car's dome light, she saw a face that was younger than she expected, with dirt-smeared cheeks and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of the nose. Disheveled copper-colored bangs fell across the woman's forehead, not quite covering a bloody gash near her hairline. Her blue-green eyes looked at Elsa with sympathy.

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "Was he a friend?"

"No," Elsa whispered. "But he was a _person_ , just doing his job. And now he's dead, probably because of me."

The woman's hand slid from Elsa's back down to her hand, squeezing it lightly. Elsa jerked away. "I'm not going to hurt you," the woman said. "I'm going to take you someplace safe." She leaned across Elsa and shut the door, then put the car in gear. As she pulled back onto the road, she said, "My name is Anna. Anna Aarndahl."

Anna glanced over at Elsa as they drove on into the night. "No need to introduce yourself, Ms. Kjarensen."

Elsa flinched at the sound of her name.

Anna continued, "I was hired to follow you."

* * *

National Police Inspector Kristoff Bjorgman drove up the dirt road leading to the cabin. Something had gone wrong tonight, he could feel it in his gut. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pushed harder on the accelerator, causing the car to skid and shimmy toward the trees.

"Easy, Kristoff. We're not that late," Kai Haugland's soft, level voice came from the passenger seat.

The veteran agent's calm demeanor was one that Kristoff normally tried to emulate, but tonight it seemed that everything had gone wrong. A new lead in one of their other cases had come up, and it was time-sensitive enough that they couldn't put off checking it out. Then dealing with it had taken longer than he thought. It had thrown off his plans to meet with Elsa Kjarensen, and he'd had to send Persie Norberg to make the pickup. Now he couldn't contact Norberg.

"I wonder why Persie's not picking up his phone," Kristoff said.

Kai shrugged. "Maybe he left it in the car again. You know how he is with it."

"Yeah." _Which is one of the reasons Persie is still just an agent after twenty-five years_. Kristoff pushed back his irritation. Hopefully it was something as simple as a forgotten phone.

Kristoff slowed down as they approached the cabin. He pulled the car around to the back and stopped short when he didn't see Norberg's car.

"Strange," Kai said. "They should've been here at least half an hour ago."

"Something's wrong," Kristoff said. He eased the car further into the back yard. The headlight beams fell on a crumpled body near the back steps. His stomach lurched. "What the -!"

Kristoff stopped the car and got out. He cursed as he stood over the body. If he hadn't known Persie Norberg for a while, he never would have been able to identify him. He checked for a pulse, more out of reflex than anything else, but there was no doubt the man was dead.

Kai drew his service pistol from his jacket. "The back door's open."

"Let's check it out." Kristoff pulled out his own weapon.

With Kai covering, Kristoff slipped through the back door. Within minutes, they had searched the cabin. No one was inside. They made a quick sweep of the tree line to make sure no one was lingering, then holstered their weapons and returned to Norberg's body.

"Oh Lord, Persie," Kai said, his voice cracking a bit. The burly agent looked as though he might break down in tears. Kai and Persie had been close, Kristoff knew. Friends and colleagues for twenty-something years. He averted his eyes to give Kai some privacy.

 _What a fucking mess_ , Kristoff thought. He'd seen violent death before. It seemed to be an inevitable part of his job, but it had never hit this close. Losing an agent, any agent, was bad enough. Losing an agent on his watch, a man he was responsible for, could be the start of an unending nightmare.

"So what do we do now?" Kai asked. He seemed to have regained control over his voice.

Kristoff shoved down his own budding grief. "We have a crime scene, Kai. We secure the area and call it in."

"Locals?" Kai asked.

"Not unless we have to," Kristoff replied. "We need to control the information flow, and if the local constable gets involved, the media won't be far behind."

"If the constable finds out, he won't happy about being cut out of a murder investigation in his own jurisdiction," Kai pointed out. "If he is unhappy enough, he may call the media himself."

"It's the murder of a NP agent. We have jurisdiction either way." That wouldn't necessarily assuage the ego of the local constable if he was inclined to take offense, but at least there would be no jurisdictional arguments.

"What about Kjarensen?" Kai asked.

"We don't know that she's dead," Kristoff said. "Just that she's not here."

"There's always the possibility that she's the shooter," Kai said.

Kristoff snorted. "Not a chance."

"Perhaps," Kai said. "Are you going to call it in to Sinclair?"

"Might as well," Kristoff said. "I have to report to her anyway, so why not have her get the wheels turning? She can probably get Fucked out here faster than I can."

The National Police's Forensics Unit was known by its unfortunate acronym FU, sometimes referred to simply as Fucked, with more than a little snickering on the part of the field agents.

Kristoff pulled out his phone and called Lieutenant Helga Sinclair, his immediate superior. As he reported the situation, he mentally ran through his chain of command. Sinclair would no doubt notify all of them, and Kristoff wondered how many would show up. Most of them probably would, either out of morbid curiosity or the overwhelming desire to make sure their own asses were covered. None of them would want the blame for a murdered agent falling at their feet.

Kristoff deflected as many questions as he could, just passing on the basics of the scene to Sinclair. Sinclair would get FU moving, along with the Violent Crime Investigation Division, or VCID. Soon Kristoff would be up to his ass in acronyms, with enough alphabet soup on the scene to fill a primary schooler's first lesson book.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the director-general showed up as well," Kai added.

Acid burned in Kristoff's stomach. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the scene was crawling with agents and technicians, who had all managed to make out to the boonies without alerting the media. The coroner declared the death and confirmed what everyone who had seen the body already knew – Persie Norberg had died from a gunshot wound, which had entered through his neck and exited through his face. Techs from FU methodically worked the scene, gathering evidence and placing it in plastic zip seal bags.

Other agents managed to mill around the area, not contributing but also not getting in FU's way. Some of them had openly cried when they saw Persie's body. Kristoff felt that he didn't have that luxury – he was the youngest agent present and Norberg's supervisor to boot. He knew that some had questioned him being put in charge of this case. He also knew that most NP agents would never draw their service weapons outside the qualification range, and that the all of them were wondering how they would have reacted if they had been in Norberg's shoes.

Kristoff, Kai and their other squad members gathered around Lieutenant Sinclair. Sinclair was a tall, severe-looking blonde with a no-nonsense attitude. She was married to NP procedures and guidelines, and Kristoff knew he had to be able to justify his deviations from them if he wanted any support from her at all.

Sinclair had just started to talk when a tech from FU appeared with a pair of muddy boots in one hand. Kristoff and Kai had seen the boots on their initial search but had refrained from disturbing anything that might be evidence.

"Someone was in the house," the tech reported. "There was no sign of forced entry and the alarm was turned off. These boots were next to the back steps. They're women's boots, size thirty-seven. Whoever it was tripped the motion sensors for the cameras, because they're all running."

"So we should be able to see whoever was in the house on the DVR?" Kristoff asked.

"The DVR's gone," the tech said. "The closet was unlocked. Nothing in there but a busted monitor, a switch and a bunch of dangling wires." She put the boots in an evidence bag and left to continue processing the scene.

 _Shit!_ Kristoff had been hopeful that the recorder would be able to give them a clue as to what might have happened, or at the very least, a starting point to find Elsa Kjarensen and ID the shooter.

"Tell me what you think, Agent Bjorgman," Sinclair ordered. Kristoff didn't miss the fact that his boss had not addressed him by his proper rank, and he didn't think it was a mistake. The hint was anything but subtle: this was Kristoff's responsibility and if he screwed it up, he would be back to the rank and file.

This case was the most important one Kristoff might ever handle, and was the biggest corruption case for the National Police in years. Not too long after being assigned to the Anti-Corruption Division, Kristoff had received a phone call from Elsa Kjarensen. After secretly meeting with her several times, Kristoff had been promoted and put in charge of a squad to investigate a crime that had the potential to sweep up some of the most prominent figures in Arendelle's government.

Several senior agents had objected to the promotion because he was relatively junior, but no one could argue that he wasn't capable. Kristoff himself would admit there was an element of luck – he had been the only agent available when she called. He met with her, established a rapport, and she soon made it clear that she preferred dealing with him to the other agents. So he was put in charge. Many agents would die for a chance to break a case like this during their careers.

Well, one had died for it tonight.

Kristoff gathered his thoughts. "I think our first priority has to be finding out what happened to Elsa Kjarensen," he said.

"You think Kjarensen might have killed Persie?" Sinclair asked. "If so, I'll get a bulletin out on her in about two seconds."

Kristoff shook his head. "No. My gut says she had nothing to do with it. We just don't know enough yet. Check the blood and other trace. If it only matches Persie, then we know she wasn't hit as well. We already know that Persie didn't fire his piece. And he had on his vest. Doc's initial assessment is a distance shot from a high-powered rifle, maybe a seven-six-two. That doesn't fit a scenario with Kjarensen. She would have been up close. A pistol, not a rifle. Something she could carry in her purse or a concealed holster."

"You think he was between her and shooter?" Kai asked.

"Maybe. The question then would be was he aware of the shooter?"

"So another person waiting for them? Maybe inside the cabin?" Sinclair guessed.

"Fucked says there was no forced entry. And if the shooter was in the cabin, why not kill them inside?" Kristoff said.

"A rifle is an ungainly weapon to use indoors, especially in a small place like this. My guess would be a shot from the tree line. But why kill them outside and then go in the house?" Kai asked.

Sinclair ventured, "Maybe Persie and Kjarensen went in the house."

Kristoff shook his head again. "I don't think so. When we bring Elsa out here, we talk for at least a couple of hours. So if they had gone into the cabin, Persie wouldn't have been killed in the yard. Kai and I weren't that far behind them, maybe a half-hour or forty-five minutes."

"My guess is Persie got spooked somehow," Kristoff went on. He swallowed hard and walked over to Norberg's body. "Based on the tire tracks, I think he was killed right after he got out of the car. He pulls up, thinks something's not right. He gets out, pulls his piece, and gets dropped."

Kai pointed to the torn-up grass and deep tire grooves in the yard. "It's been raining fairly heavily for the last few days, so the ground is soft, but you can see by how deep these gouges are that whoever took Persie's car left in a hurry. In fact, it looks like whoever it was ran right out of her boots."

"You think they're Kjarensen's boots? If she's not the shooter, maybe she escaped in Norberg's car?" Sinclair asked.

"Maybe, but hiking boots don't fit with Elsa's usual wardrobe," Kristoff said. "Persie picked her up near her office, which means she was probably still wearing her work clothes. Suit and heels."

"Maybe the shooter is a woman, and she took Kjarensen with her," Kai suggested. "We know that _somebody_ was in the cabin, because the DVR is gone."

Sinclair paced. "So we're looking at a third party in the house. The alarm was deactivated, which means that the third party had the alarm code. How would an outsider have the code?" She glared at Kristoff. "Do we have a leak?"

Kristoff had been wondering that from the get-go, but couldn't bring himself to admit it. The implications of a leak were more than he really wanted to consider at the moment. "I…I don't think so, ma'am."

"And how would the shooter know to come here at all?" Sinclair demanded.

"It could be random," Kristoff said. "Burglary gone wrong, or armed robbery." It sounded lame, even to him.

"So how did the burglar get in?" Sinclair asked scathingly. "Did you forget to activate the alarm the last time you were out here? Did you leave the doors unlocked?"

Kristoff squirmed. "No, ma'am, we always lock it and arm it. Kai can verify that."

Sinclair stopped pacing, inches in front of him, and got in his face. "So you have a dead agent, a missing witness, and a pair of boots that doesn't belong to either one of them. You have a deactivated alarm and no signs of forced entry. Tell me how that doesn't equate to an outsider being here. Tell me how that doesn't equate to a leak."

Kristoff willed himself not to flinch under her cold blue gaze. He had no other plausible explanation. Guilt gnawed around the edges of his mind. He was Persie's supervisor, and he bore responsibility for him. But part of him dwelt on the fact that if he had been with Elsa tonight, he would be the one being loaded into the back of the coroner's wagon. Then who would look after Bulda and Grandpabbie?

He took a deep breath, shaking those thoughts away. "Ma'am, you asked me what I thought, so here it is. I don't think Elsa killed Persie. I think it's Erikksen. The guy has friends and contacts in the Castle and all over the city. Somehow he found out that she was talking to us, and decided to have her eliminated. We have to find her."

"If you think she's still alive, I'll put out a bulletin on her," Sinclair said.

"No," Kristoff said. "Erikksen's too connected. If we do that, we're as good as telling him that we're looking for her. If she _is_ alive, she may not be for long. I think we have to keep it quiet."

Sinclair regarded him thoughtfully. "You don't think Erikksen has already fled?"

"Unlikely," Kai put in. "If he left now, he would be all but openly admitting guilt."

"I don't like it," Sinclair said with a frown. "We should put out a notice on Kjarensen and bring her in, as a material witness if nothing else. Assuming she's still alive."

"Elsa is pretty smart, and tougher than she looks," Kristoff said. "If she's still alive, Erikksen probably won't find that out for a few days. If she can hang on that long, we might have a chance. But if we publically name her as a material witness, we might as well kill her ourselves."

"You think you can find her on the down-low?" Sinclair asked.

"Yes." _I hope_. But what else could he say?

Sinclair studied him for a moment, long enough that Kristoff had to consciously keep from fidgeting under her gaze. "All right, _Inspector_ Bjorgman. This isn't exactly textbook, but it's your investigation. You own it." She turned on her heel and walked toward the front of the cabin, where the director-general's official vehicle had just pulled up.

Kristoff exhaled heavily, unsure if Sinclair had just given him a reprieve, or enough rope to hang himself.

"What are we going to do, Kristoff?" Kai asked.

"Find Elsa," Kristoff answered. "What else can we do? Without her, we have nothing."

"Do you really think she's still alive?"

"Yeah, I do. You haven't spent as much time with her as I have. I wasn't kidding when I said she's smart. She can also be cold and single-minded, which are both traits that will help her survive. If whoever was in the house wanted her dead, her body would be next to Persie's. I think she has a chance."

"So where do we start?"

Kristoff picked up the evidence bag that held the hiking boots. "Let's see if we can find a Cinderella to go with our glass slippers."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's read and favorited! I appreciate you sticking with me. As always, feedback is welcome - let me know if you like or don't like. If you don't like, tell me why. I'm always up for some constructive criticism.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Frozen, not me._

* * *

Anna turned the cop's car off the hardtop road into a small grassy clearing and pulled into a space at the very back corner, away from the few other cars in the lot. Her own car, an old Volvo sedan, was parked next to the sign that marked the entrance to the North Mountain trail system. She got out of the car and took a quick look around, checking for any hikers that were keeping odd hours. Satisfied that no one else was around, she went to the passenger door and opened it.

Elsa Kjarensen sat stiff and unmoving. She hadn't spoken a word since Anna told her about being hired to follow her. The blonde woman's shift in demeanor was remarkable – just minutes after retching and trembling at her brush with death, she sat cool and composed, her face expressionless, the only outward sign of emotion the slight hunching of her shoulders and the occasional wringing of her hands in her lap.

 _A real ice queen_ , Anna thought.

"Hey, come on," Anna said. "We're changing cars."

Kjarensen glanced up at her. Anna offered her hand to help her out, but the woman ignored her, climbing out of the car on her own. She stood still for minute, holding onto the car door like she didn't trust her legs, and then she nodded at Anna.

"Where?" she asked.

"Right there," Anna replied, leading her over to the Volvo. She opened the trunk and tossed in her backpack, then grabbed her sneakers and pulled them on. She rummaged through a box and came out with a trash bag, a small towel, and a container of baby wipes.

"Here," she said, handing the baby wipes to Kjarensen. "Why don't you use these to clean yourself up a little? Get the…the" – she stuttered as she almost said 'brains' – "stuff off you. I keep a change of clothes in that tote bag there, so there's a clean shirt if you want it. I'm going to wipe down the cop car."

Kjarensen gave her a tight nod. Anna grabbed a water bottle and went back to the cop car, using the towel and water to scrub it down as thoroughly as she could. She was still wearing the latex gloves, so she didn't think she had left any fingerprints, but better safe than sorry. She wasn't really worried about Kjarensen's fingerprints – after all, they expected _her_ to be in the car - but she was worried about her own trace. And the cop's blood and brain tissue.

 _God, the smell_ … Anna's stomach rolled. She bent over and swallowed hard, taking gulping breaths through her mouth. She'd seen the…the _tissue_ on Kjarensen's clothing, and gotten an up-close view of the blown-away NP agent. She suspected that the man's destroyed, one-eyed face would be a visitor in her nightmares for a very long time.

 _Don't puke, don't puke._ She propped her elbows on her knees, keeping her head down until she was satisfied that her last meal would remain in her stomach. Then she finished cleaning the car, wondering how much good it would ultimately do. She easily could have missed something. The National Police had all kinds of forensic resources, including equipment that could see things that were completely invisible to the naked eye. The best she could hope for was that she might slow them down some.

Anna stuffed the towel and her latex gloves into the trash bag. She returned to her own car, where Kjarensen had finished cleaning herself up and was now wearing the shirt from Anna's tote bag. The shirt didn't quite mesh with the woman's power skirt and expensive shoes, but at least it was clean. It also didn't quite fit her; Anna couldn't help but notice the strain on the buttons at Kjarensen's bust.

"Better?" Anna asked, willing herself not to stare. Kjarensen nodded. Anna held the trash bag open, and the other woman deposited the dirty baby wipes in it. "Clothes too," Anna ordered, and the bloody jacket and blouse joined the baby wipes in the bag.

"Do you have a first-aid kit?" Kjarensen asked.

"Yeah, right there." Anna pointed into the trunk. "Why?"

"Your head. You have quite a cut there." Kjarensen reached towards her, then pulled her hand back and gestured at her own forehead. "It probably needs to be cleaned up."

Now that Anna was thinking about the cut on her forehead, it was the only thing she could think about. It throbbed right along with her pulse, and she winced as she probed at it. Her fingers came away sticky with congealed blood.

Kjarensen had the first-aid kit out and was tearing open an alcohol wipe. "Here, let me." She dabbed at Anna's forehead. Anna hissed at the sting of the alcohol, gritting her teeth as Kjarensen cleaned the cut and wiped the dried blood from around it. The blonde woman's eyebrows furrowed as she used a second wipe to clean along Anna's hairline from her temple down in front of her ear.

Anna studied her face, her finely chiseled features soft in the trunk's dim light. _Whoa, she's really beautiful._ It occurred to Anna that, in the time she had spent watching this woman, this was the first time she'd seen Kjarensen looking anything other than perfectly put together. Dirt smudged her face and thick tendrils of pale blonde hair had escaped the immaculate bun to fall in disarray around her cheeks. But somehow even disarray managed to look good on her.

"That should do it," Kjarensen said. "It looks like the bleeding has mostly stopped."

She put the bloody alcohol wipes into the trash bag. Anna tied it off and tossed it into the trunk.

"Okay, let's go." They got in the car.

"Wait," Kjarensen said. "Can we call the police about…about what happened? We should let someone know he's there."

"Wait, what?" Anna exclaimed. "You can't be serious! How the hell would we explain that?"

"We can't just leave him there," Kjarensen insisted. "It's not right."

"No. No fucking way," Anna said with a scowl. "He was a cop. He probably had a scheduled time to report in. When he doesn't report in, someone will check it out."

"If you won't call it in, I will," Kjarensen said calmly, digging her phone out of her purse. "He didn't ask for that. He's a person, maybe with a family, and it's just not right to leave him out there for the crows."

"Urgh!" Anna pounded the steering wheel. So the Ice Queen had a conscience. She reached over and closed her hand over Kjarensen's, keeping her from making the call. "All right, fine," she growled. "But just wait a minute, okay?"

She got out of her car and ran back over to the NP sedan. Wrapping her hand in her shirttail, she opened the sedan's door, then leaned in carefully and snagged the agent's cell phone from the console, powering it off as she jogged back to the car.

When she got back to the car, Kjarensen looked at her curiously. "I'll make the call on his phone," Anna explained as she pulled her car onto the road. "But not until we're pretty far away from here."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, cell reception sucks out here," Anna said. "And secondly, the NPs will for sure be monitoring his phone. They can ping it off the cell phone towers, and I'd like to be well away from here when they do that."

"Oh."

They drove on in silence for a while, Anna's fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while she pondered her next move. _Christ, why am I doing this? If I was really smart, I would dump this woman by the side of the road and drive right out of her life. I don't owe her anything. She's involved in some serious shit. Whoever tried to kill her was loaded for bear, and if he tracks her down again, I'll be in the crosshairs too. One experience with being shot at is quite enough, thank you very much. And now she wants to call the cops too?_

 _But you know she's right_ , her own conscience niggled at her. _He was a human being, and it's not decent to leave him out there to be nibbled on by the bugs and critters._

"Why did you park out there?"

The question pulled Anna out of her rambling thoughts. "What?"

"Why were you parked out there?" Kjarensen repeated her question. "In that clearing?"

"Oh. It's a trailhead for hikers, so it's not unusual for cars to be parked there for days or weeks at a time. No one bothers them or calls the cops about them. And if you cross the road and head straight through the forest for a couple of miles, you come out at that old cabin."

"I see."

Anna glanced over and found Kjarensen giving her an appraising look. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. You said you were hired to follow me?"

"That's right."

"Who hired you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I. Don't. Know," Anna said hotly. "What is this, an interrogation?"

"How can you not know who hired you?" Kjarensen asked, incredulous.

"It means an anonymous client," Anna shot back. "It's not unheard of. Some people are embarrassed about hiring a private detective."

"Is that what you are? A private detective?" Kjarensen asked.

Anna could hear the contempt in her voice, and her temper flared. "Yeah, I'm a private detective. What about it? It's not a fancy job. I don't wear Armani suits or Christian Louboutins, but I'm legit. I work for a living, and I'm pretty fucking good at it."

Kjarensen held up her hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply otherwise. How did you come to be hired by this anonymous client?"

Anna shrugged. "No idea. They probably Googled 'private detective' and my name came up first in the search results. I do have a pretty wicked web page. It has my phone number and a 'Contact Me' box and everything."

"The sarcasm isn't necessary, Miss Aarndahl."

"Anna. My name is Anna."

"Fine. Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into, _Anna_?"

"Not exactly, but I have a few theories," Anna said. "Getting shot at got my attention in a big way."

"Someone shot at you?" Kjarensen said, astonished. "Who?"

"The same person who killed that cop. I shot back at him, and I'm pretty sure I hit him, but not bad enough to keep him from running away."

Kjarensen sagged back against the seat. "My God…" she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.

Anna still wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she was sure as hell going to find out. Her nerves and her patience were stretched thin, and while adrenaline would keep her going for a while, eventually she would crash hard.

"Are you in Witness Protection?" Anna asked.

"You asked that before. Why do you think that?"

"The setup at the cabin. It's out in the middle of nowhere, but has brand-new deadbolt locks and a security system. Like a safe house. Other than that, it's a dump. No way anyone is living there."

"You went inside?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get in?"

"I know a few tricks."

"You broke in."

Anna flashed her a grin. "I thought it was a love nest. I do a lot of work for divorce lawyers, and this case had a lot of the same vibes. You showed up out there with that big blond guy, the good-looking one, and I thought for sure you two were having an affair. But I couldn't figure out why you would drive out to BFE just to have sex."

"BFE?" Kjarensen asked.

"You know, BFE. Bumfuck - " Anna broke off at the other woman's puzzled expression. "Never mind. Anyway, as soon as I got inside, I knew it wasn't a love nest. No one could knock boots on those nasty beds without choking to death."

"Indeed," Kjarensen murmured.

"So naturally, I'm more than a little curious about what you two actually got up to in that place for hours at a time. Drinking bad coffee and talking? Maybe cheaper than a bar, but a lot less fun." Anna gave her a sidelong look. "Care to tell me, or just let me continue to draw my own conclusions?"

"I suspect you will continue to jump to your own conclusions regardless of what I tell you."

Anna laughed. "Look how well you know me already. Might as well tell me. I'm just going to keep pestering you."

No response. Anna glanced over to see the other woman chewing at her lower lip, apparently lost in thought.

"Strange place, that cabin," Anna went on. "It also had a bunch of hidden surveillance cameras and a digital recording system." Anna glanced over when she heard the other woman gasp. "What, you didn't know you were starring in their home movies?"

Kjarensen's open-mouthed shock answered that question. She recovered quickly enough, though, and asked, "If you don't know your client, how did you know to follow me?"

"Simple. I got an email saying that the client wanted to engage me to follow someone, and that I would receive a cash advance and a file on the subject – you – in a few days. Sure enough, a couple of days later I got a delivery with a big roll of cash and all your particulars. The instructions were to keep track of all your movements. So I have been."

"I didn't know I was being followed."

"I told you, I'm good at what I do. Once I knew you were going to the cottage, I started getting there ahead of you. Finding the place through the forest the first time was the hardest part." Anna paused for a moment. "No offense, but other than your little trips out to the boonies, you just aren't that hard to follow. You don't seem to have much of a life other than work."

Kjarensen sighed. "I don't."

"That's unfortunate."

"What do you mean?"

"Ms. Kjarensen - "

"You can call me Elsa. I think you've earned that."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sarcasm again."

"Sorry, habit," Anna said. "Anyway, _Elsa_ , you're very attractive. Hard to believe you don't have men lined up to take you out."

"Well, I don't," Elsa said coldly. She turned away from Anna and stared out the window.

 _And the Ice Queen is back._ Anna shivered. She could swear the temperature in the car had just dropped twenty degrees. _Poised, beautiful and completely unapproachable._

 _What a waste._

 _Wait, what?_

* * *

Elsa watched everything roll by outside a car window for the second time that night. The trees, the road, everything she had watched in reverse earlier that night. It seemed that the only things different were the car and the driver, but in reality, everything was different now. How could her life have been turned so completely upside down in the course of a night?

 _Don't kid yourself. You turned your life upside down when you picked up the phone and called Kristoff Bjorgman. And now a man is dead because of you._

Did Persie Norberg have a family? She didn't know and hadn't asked, but he seemed like the fatherly type. She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer, surprised at how quickly the long-unused words came back to her, almost like a reflex. Was she pleading for something in a nebulous afterlife to take care of him? Or to look after whomever he'd left behind?

Or maybe it really an unconscious plea for some type for forgiveness for herself.

Was Agdar in danger as well? If one of his corrupt councilors had found out about Elsa, would the next step be to eliminate Agdar? Maybe she should call him, warn him that their secret was out. Confess her betrayal.

 _No. If what happened tonight is any indication, contacting Agdar might get him killed. Best to stay away. Maybe forever._

Then there was Anna Aarndahl. She glanced over at the other woman, who was frowning as she played with the car's temperature controls. What was she going to do about her unlikely rescuer? Anna was cocky and somewhat rash, but she also seemed to know what she was doing. And she had a gun, a gun that she knew how to use, and more importantly, a gun that she didn't seem inclined to use on Elsa. _At least not yet_.

Elsa's thoughts flashed to her safe deposit box, where she kept three items that were now more valuable than anything else she owned – a passport, a driver's permit and a credit card, all under another name. Agdar had insisted; it was foolish, he said, to not have a lifeboat if your ship starts to sink.

But the bank wouldn't open for hours. What would she do until then? Anna had said they were going someplace safe. _Persie Norberg said the same thing, and look how that turned out._

It appeared she would have to trust Anna, at least somewhat, until she could get to her bank. The redheaded woman had proven herself plenty resourceful so far. If they could get to a place where she could rest for a bit and let collect her thoughts, then she could make a plan. Once she had her IDs and credit card, she could disappear and put the past behind her. Elsa didn't want anyone else to be hurt because of her, least of all someone who had already risked her life on Elsa's behalf.

* * *

Duke Weselton sat in the study of his elegant old home in the upscale High Market neighborhood of Arendelle City, sipping at a snifter of cognac. Sheaves of printed financial reports littered his lap, his hand idly flipping through the pages. Oh, he kept with trends online, had a smartphone and a tablet for immediate access to every bit of market information that technology could provide, but he still preferred the feel of paper between his fingers.

 _Hmmm…_ On the subject of paper….He thumbed back several pages, finding the data on Northern International's wood-pulp interests. Below expectations again. His man in the forestry management agency had either developed a troublesome independent streak or was becoming slipshod in keeping an eye on the regulatory situation. He made a mental note to send one of the Schlager brothers over to talk to him.

Weselton shifted a bit in his leather club chair and sipped his drink. The people he had inside several of Arendelle's bureaucratic agencies were having a bit more difficulty keeping things friendly for him lately. He wondered if he and Agdar Erikksen were at cross-purposes in more ways than one. Weselton and his colleagues had been concentrating on the Nasjonsting legislators that Erikksen had compromised, but what if the man had key bureaucrats in his pocket as well? That could explain some of Northern's recent regulatory setbacks, especially in the energy sector.

Weselton sighed. Didn't these environmentalists understand that he didn't like oil spills any more than they did? Spills were bad for business. But they were part of the inherent risks of drilling. It already cost his company enough money to clean up the spills, repair platform damage, and get everything running again. How could he be expected to pay the outrageous spillage fines as well? Not to mention the ruinous workers compensation rates!

He took a large swig of cognac to combat his growing agitation. The sooner they got this matter with the succession straightened out, the better. They needed a king who would take control of the bureaucracy and sweep aside the needless restraints on business, rather than a spineless chancellor who bent whichever way the wind was blowing.

There was a tap at the door. "Come," he called. The door opened and Gustaf Schlager poked his head in.

"Mr. Westergard is here to see you, Mr. Weselton," he announced.

"Send him in."

Gustaf opened the door fully to admit Hans Westergard. Hans waited until Gustaf left, then whirled on Weselton.

"Have you heard from Tweedledum?" he demanded.

"You mean Fritz," Weselton corrected sharply. "No, I haven't."

"Has Tweedle-dumber heard from him?" Hans jerked his thumb in the now-departed Gustaf's direction.

"No. _Gustaf_ would have informed me immediately if his brother had called in. Why?"

"Preliminary report. The NP agent is dead, but Kjarensen is missing."

"What?" Weselton sprung up from his chair, scattering papers across the floor. "How did that happen?"

Hans crossed to the study's small bar. He uncapped a bottle of scotch and splashed several fingers into a crystal tumbler. "My information right now is sketchy. We need Tweedledum's report."

Weselton glowered at the younger man. "I'm confident that Fritz will call in as soon as he is able. It may take some time for him to cover his tracks."

Hans lowered himself into the chair at Weselton's desk and sipped his drink. Weselton gathered his papers, arranging them neatly on the side table before settling back into his leather chair and picking up his own glass. He studied Hans over the rim of the snifter.

The young man was clever, Weselton had to give him that. And well-connected, though on a shiftier, seedier level than Weselton himself. He was also ambitious, almost frighteningly so. Weselton presumed it was the natural inclination for someone who was the youngest of thirteen sons, scrapping for a place in the family business, and perhaps for a bit of fatherly attention.

The current operation had been Hans' brainchild. When Weselton had originally compromised Agdar Erikksen, his intent had been solely to increase his leverage over Arendelle's economic environment, to manipulate it to suit the needs of himself and his associates. He had given little thought to what would happen when King Haldor died. After all, the king had not personally involved himself in governing Arendelle in over two decades.

It was Hans who had sought him out, the younger man already aware of Erikksen's corruption and Weselton's intended exploitation of it. It was Hans who had brought his attention to the _Traktat av Norge_ and the consequences it dictated for Arendelle if there was no heir to the Crocus Throne. It was Hans who suggested using the leverage they now had over the Nasjonsting to put a candidate of their choosing on the throne. They would keep Arendelle independent and control it as well.

The trouble was finding the right heir. Not surprisingly, Hans had come up with the solution for that as well. It was all a matter of paperwork, and with the right connections, a little arm-twisting, and some grease to the right palms, almost any paperwork was possible.

Weselton was still amazed that the people of Arendelle did not seem to be completely aware of what would happen to their country when the king died. Most citizens treated the search for an heir as some sort of reality TV show – entertaining, but of little real import in their daily lives. Granted, the treaty had been signed well over two hundred years ago, but it was still a binding document. The Castle had done a very good job of keeping the real significance quiet.

Otherwise, the citizens of Arendelle might be in a full-scale panic rather than entertained by the whole situation.

Hans' cell phone buzzed. He snatched it up. "Yes?"

…"What? How?"

…"No, you idiot, don't take him there, they have to report those."

…"Yes, that's fine. Call me immediately when he's ready to talk."

Hans terminated the call and turned to Weselton. "Tweedledum has been heard from. He called the emergency number and my man picked him up. He confirmed my earlier information – the NP agent is dead and Kjarensen has disappeared." He rose and paced the study. "So he took out one of Arendelle's finest and missed the real target."

"Oh, that's not good!" Weselton fretted. "The others will not be happy to hear that."

"And to top it off, Tweedledum not only missed Kjarensen, but got himself shot in the process." Hans tossed back the rest of his scotch.

Weselton choked on his cognac. "By the agent?"

"No, apparently there was someone else at the cabin as well. A woman. That's all we have for now. We'll need to get a full report and a description from Tweedledum as soon as he's been treated and able to talk." Hans halted his pacing. "This is a real fuck-up, Weselton."

"You think I don't know that?" Weselton sputtered. "What are we going to do?" He jumped to his feet and grabbed Hans' lapels. "You have to find Kjarensen!"

"Calm down," Hans ordered, jerking Weselton's hands from his jacket and shoving him away. "The situation is salvageable."

"How? The NPs will be all over this like a pack of rabid wolves!"

"Yes, and _their_ first priority will be to find Kjarensen. We'll know as soon as they do. And I was right all along – they're already looking at Erikksen as the suspect."

Weselton refilled his cognac snifter, his hands quivering. "So what do we do about Erikksen?"

"We let him know him know about Kjarensen's betrayal. He'll start looking for her as well, and may lead us to her. He's a resourceful guy." Hans shrugged. "Otherwise, we keep him on track. He has a trip to Sornland in the morning, so he'll be out of reach for at least a day. If he gets to be too much trouble, well…we have everything we need from him. His usefulness is coming to an end."

"What about Kjarensen?"

Hans waved his hand dismissively. "The NPs will find her. It may take them some time, but they're pretty good at it. When they do, we'll be there too. And we won't fuck it up this time. We get rid of Kjarensen and Erikksen, and we can move forward with the plan."

* * *

 **A/N:** I know I'm way off the once-a-week schedule I'd hoped to maintain, but the story's still alive. Would love to hear your thoughts, good, bad, random or otherwise!


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen_

* * *

Anna stalked back and forth in front of the seawall separating the sidewalk from the fjord, Persie Norberg's cell phone pressed to her ear. The upscale waterfront shopping area was deserted this time of night, but Anna had driven around the area three times before she decided it was safe to stop and call the police.

"That's all I have to say," she snarled into the phone. She terminated the call. _Asshole._

"What did you tell the police?" Elsa asked.

"Just the basics. What happened and where."

"What did they say?"

"Not much. Just asked a bunch of questions trying to keep me on the line. But if they're tracking it…."

Elsa, who was leaning against the passenger door of Anna's Volvo, jumped when Anna smashed the phone onto the sidewalk and stomped on it.

"…it will dead-end right here," Anna finished. She picked up the broken phone and examined it, then walked around the car and put it down behind a rear tire. "Move," she ordered, shooing Elsa away.

Elsa stepped back. Anna got in the car and backed over the phone. Then she switched gears and rolled forward over it for good measure. When she got out, she saw Elsa watching her, wide-eyed.

"What?" Anna asked.

"I…I thought…that's a bit of overkill, isn't it?" Elsa gestured at the now-flattened cell phone.

"Can't be too careful," Anna responded. She picked up the phone and twisted it, breaking it completely in two, then grinned. "You thought I was going to drive off without you, didn't you?"

"No!" came the indignant reply. Anna couldn't quite tell in the streetlight's yellowish glare, but thought she saw the other woman flush.

"Yeah, you totally thought I was going to leave you here." Anna smirked at Elsa's scowl.

"I did not."

Anna chuckled, oddly pleased to get a rise out of the woman. She turned and drew her arm back, ready to pitch the phone into the fjord, when Elsa's hand clamped around her wrist.

"Don't," Elsa ordered in a low voice that raised the tiny hairs at Anna's nape.

"What?" Anna tried not to flinch from the ice-blue eyes boring into hers.

"You were going to throw it in the fjord," the blonde accused.

"Yeah, so?"

"Do you know how many toxins there are in cell phones? Lead, mercury, and cadmium, just to name a few. All of which are harmful to both humans and aquatic life."

Anna goggled. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Numerous studies -"

Anna wrenched her arm free. "Wait, wait, wait. You're seriously gonna lecture me about the environmental impact of one busted cell phone? Right now?"

"It's not just that one -"

"This _one_ belonged to an NP who got his head blown off two feet away from you!"

Elsa winced, her arms wrapping around her middle, but pressed on. "That doesn't change the facts."

Anna scowled and crossed her arms. "No, it doesn't. And the fact is, we need to get rid of it."

"We can rid of it without throwing it in the fjord," Elsa insisted.

"A quick, _untraceable_ way to get rid of it," Anna clarified.

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Anna debated just getting in her car and leaving the irksome blonde behind with the incriminating phone.

But she didn't.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this._ "Fine," Anna huffed. "I'll find a dumpster."

"Northern Industries handles Arendelle's garbage. If you put in a dumpster, it will end up in the ocean. It's the same outcome as throwing it in the fjord. So no."

"Then where the hell do you want me to put it?! …. Wait, don't answer that."

Elsa's eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head to one side. Anna might have found it cute if she weren't so exasperated. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You know what…? Maybe I should -" Anna sighed. "Never mind. Just get in the car."

They pulled away from the waterfront, Anna cursing under her breath as she tried to figure out an environmentally friendly was to dump the damn phone.

* * *

Anna turned off into an alley and parked behind another car. "Here we are," she said.

Elsa's eyes widened as she looked around the alley, taking in the trashcans, the dim lighting, the distant sound of raucous voices. "Is _this_ the 'safe place' you were talking about?"

"No, we're just parking here. We'll walk to the safe place," Anna said. She grabbed her backpack out of the trunk and slung it over her shoulder. "It's my apartment, just so you know."

"Where are we?" Elsa asked. She stuck close to Anna, practically riding her back as they headed toward the end of the alley.

"University Place. It's not a bad area, but it can still be a little sketchy, especially this time of night."

"What do you mean, 'sketchy?'"

"The occasional mugging." Anna shot a glance at Elsa and added, "Don't worry, they usually pick on drunken students coming out of the clubs."

"That's not really comforting," Elsa said.

They reached the end of the alley, and Anna held up her hand. "Wait here."

"You're leaving me here alone?" Elsa tried to keep her voice level. _After telling me about sketchiness and muggings?_

Anna's turquoise eyes flicked over her face. "I just want to check things out. Make sure there's nobody strange hanging around."

"But -"

Anna pressed two fingers over Elsa's lips, cutting her off. Elsa jerked back. "I'm faster without you," Anna said. "Stay in the shadows, and yell if anything seems weird. I'll be right back." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and then she was gone.

 _There's nothing about this situation that isn't weird!_ Elsa sagged against the wall of the alley. Her fingers came up to where Anna's had been, and she snatched them away with a frown.

Alone in the alley, the darkness seemed deeper, every sound magnified. She swiveled her head, certain she'd heard the tap of approaching footsteps, but there was no one else around. Elsa wedged herself further into the shadows, her heart pounding so hard she was surprised that shoes weren't flying at her from the windows above.

Just when she was ready to flee the alley, Anna reappeared. "Looks good," she said. "Let's go."

They turned out of the alley onto a cobblestone street. It was deserted except for a couple of cats darting in and out of the shadows. Large, colorful wooden buildings lined each side of the road. They looked older, but well-kept, standing in neat pairs with narrow walkways running between each set.

"Which one is yours?" Elsa asked.

"The big yellow one up there," Anna said, pointing.

They started up the hill. "So you never got mugged when you were a student?" Anna asked.

"No."

"Huh. I heard being mugged outside a bar was like a rite of passage or something."

"I didn't go out much."

"That's unfortunate."

"You keep saying that."

"Cause it's true. I thought university was supposed to be the best time of your life."

"That doesn't mean it has to be spent in a drunken stupor!"

Anna let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. Chill out."

Elsa crossed her arms, pressing her lips into a tight line. Anna was getting under her skin, she knew it and she was enjoying it. But people didn't get under Elsa's skin. Not normally. She didn't let them. So what was it about Anna?

 _Maybe I shouldn't have made her drive around half the city looking for a recycle bin for the cell phone._

They reached Anna's building. As they climbed the steps to the front porch, Elsa noted the doorbell/intercom mounted next to the outside door. She quickly located the button labeled 'A. Aarndahl,' and let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She still wasn't completely sure about trusting Anna, but at least it looked like the woman actually lived here.

It looked like whoever owned the house was fairly security-minded. There was a video camera above the door, and a keypad set into an ugly steel handle, in jarring contrast to the colorful wooden door. Anna saw her looking at the camera and said, "My idea."

"Why?"

"Like I said, it can still be a little sketchy around here, and there are kids and older people living here. It's nice to be able to see if the person at the door is actually who they say they are." Anna punched a combination into the keypad. Elsa heard the buzz of a solenoid, and the door clicked open.

They crossed the small foyer and climbed the steps. Anna's apartment was at the back of the house on the third floor. Anna opened the door and flipped on the light in the front hallway. Elsa saw a small monitor on the wall next to the door, which showed an astonishingly clear image of the front porch and the street directly beyond. By the monitor was an intercom with a button the presumably opened the front door to a visitor.

Anna said, "There's one in every apartment, so we can see who's ringing the bell."

The sound of loud clicks against the wood floor came from down the hall. Elsa whipped around and froze at the sight a large white ball of fur charging toward them. The furball barreled into Anna with a rumbling _woof_ , and then Anna was on her backside with a giant white dog laying slobbery kisses over her face. Its tail beat against the wall in rhythmic whacks.

"Urgh…Marshmallow, geroff me!" Anna shoved the dog away, laughing, and swiped her sleeve across her wet face.

The dog laid one last lick up Anna's face, then turned toward Elsa, saliva dripping from its lolling tongue. Elsa's eyes widened in trepidation – the beast's shoulder was level with her hips, its head huge and boulder-like. It looked like it could swallow her whole. She took a cautious step back.

"Oh my God, that's the biggest dog I've ever seen. What breed is it?" Elsa extended a wary hand for the animal to sniff.

"Careful, he doesn't always like - " Anna broke off when the dog butted his giant head against Elsa's hand. "He's a Great Pyrenees."

Elsa smiled and stroked the dog's silky white fur. "He seems swee – aaagh!" she yelped when his huge snout thrust into her crotch.

Anna snorted with laughter as the dog pinned Elsa against the wall and rooted his nose between her legs, rucking her skirt up around her hips. Elsa glared at her, heat rising in her face. She grabbed the dog's head, trying vainly to push him away. Finally Anna took pity on her and grabbed his collar.

"Come on, Marshmallow, you gotta at least buy her dinner first," Anna laughed as she yanked the dog away. "He likes you."

"Apparently so," Elsa muttered, tugging her skirt back down. She thought she saw Anna's eyes flick over her legs, and felt the blush race up to the tips of her ears.

"You should be flattered," Anna said, dragging Marshmallow down the hall. "He doesn't always take to strangers. But he's a good judge of character."

"How do you know that?"

"The first time I brought my ex here, Marshmallow tried to tear his arm off. That should've have been my first clue. Some PI I am." Anna flicked on another light to reveal a den cluttered with cardboard boxes, some still taped up, some ripped open with their contents spilling across the floor and furniture. Anna tossed her backpack on the couch, where it dislodged a book and rattled against DVD cases.

"I'm sorry, I swear I'm not messy," Anna said. "I mean, I'm messy, but not usually _this_ messy, I had everything packed up because I was going to move in with my boyfriend, but then I caught him screwing another woman and I had to move back, and I had to pay another security deposit and then I got this job and I just haven't had time-"

"No, no, it's okay," Elsa cut off the verbal barrage. "You don't have to apologize. I'm sure you weren't expecting to have visitors."

"Not hardly." Anna ducked her head and pushed her hair behind her ears. Elsa was struck by how young Anna really was. Even younger than Elsa, barely more than a teenager, by all appearances. "Um…we need to talk. Would you like something to eat? Or a cup of coffee?"

"I'm not sure food or coffee would sit well right now," Elsa said. "A cup of tea would be nice, if you have some."

"Oh, sure." Anna rummaged through the kitchen and came up with a kettle and a container of teabags. A few minutes later they were both seated at the tiny table in the breakfast nook, hands wrapped steaming mugs of herbal tea. Marshmallow lay between them, his big body draped over both women's feet.

"So," Anna began, bobbing her teabag in her mug, "we might have a problem. Remember how I told you about the cameras? In the cabin?"

Elsa nodded.

"Well, when I went inside, I must have tripped something. A motion sensor, maybe. The cameras were running and they got a few great close-ups of me. So I'm on the DVR in all of my ginger glory."

Elsa's stomach dropped. "So they could be on their way here right now?"

Anna studied her over the rim of her mug. "That might not be a bad thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a legitimate business, Elsa. But my past isn't exactly squeaky-clean, and I don't really need the NPs poking around because I'm aiding and abetting."

"Wait, you think I'm a criminal?"

"Are you?"

"No!"

Anna's copper-colored brows shot toward her hairline.

Elsa gritted her teeth. "I'm working with the NPs, not against them."

"Working with them on what?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Then I'm sorry, I can't help you. Come on, I'll give you a ride home." Anna put her mug down and stood. Marshmallow grunted in protest.

Elsa wilted, wrapping her arms around her middle. Exhaustion and stress and terror conspired to sap her resistance. She was never one who cared about being alone, but suddenly being alone was the last thing she wanted. Even if her only companion was a freckle-faced redhead who seemed intent on setting up permanent residence under her skin.

"Please, wait." She reached out hesitantly and touched Anna's arm. "How much do I have to tell you before you'll help me?"

Anna pinched her lips into a tight line, but her gaze softened a bit. She plopped back into her chair. "That depends on what kind of help you want. I'm not doing anything illegal."

Elsa frowned. "But…you broke into the cabin. And took the agent's car. And destroyed his-"

Anna rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm not doing anything _else_ illegal."

"And I wouldn't ask you to."

"Okay, well, that's good to hear. So we don't have a problem. Well, other than the whole thing with someone trying to kill you." Anna leaned back in her chair, her eyes locked on Elsa's.

Elsa wrung her hands, trying not to squirm under Anna's scrutiny. "If you're on the video, should we be sitting here?" she asked.

"I took the DVR with me when I ran out of the cabin."

"What? Why?"

Anna fiddled with one of her braids. "I panicked. I knew I was on the video. Then the guy in the woods started shooting at me and he hit the DVR. Then I shot him."

Elsa stared at her, dumbfounded by the nonchalant way she talked about _shooting_ another person. Like she was a character in one of those American cowboy stories. Elsa's terror at the cabin had been almost crippling. Was Anna was one of those people who was literally cool under fire? Or was she just a bit crazy? "So…the DVR was destroyed?"

"Maybe. I didn't exactly have time to check it, you know, not with trying to haul your ass out of there, but the NPs will find it. If the hard drive wasn't too damaged, then they'll probably be able to get images from it. If they do, then they'll probably ID me. I've been in the system."

"But it might take them some time?"

"That's what I'm hoping." Anna fingered the cut on her forehead and winced. "My neck's kinda stuck out here. I think you owe me an explanation."

Elsa swirled the tea around in her cup, staring into the tiny whirlpool of brown liquid. It would be so easy to unburden herself on Anna, but so unfair. What she ought to do was get up and walk out before she caused any more harm. Before Anna became like Agdar, someone else whose life was left in ruins in Elsa's wake.

"Earth to Elsa."

She started when a warm hand closed around hers on the teacup and brought it back to the table. Anna looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Okay, look, I'm supposed to be the detective, right? I'll make some deductions and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong. How about that?"

When Elsa didn't reply, Anna rose and started pacing. "I only saw cameras in the front room. Same place where the table, chairs, coffee, all that stuff was set up. So that was the only room in the cabin being used. Well, that and the bathroom. Now, I think I tripped some kind of a motion sensor when I went in, and that set off the cameras."

"I guess that makes sense," Elsa said.

"No, it doesn't. I had the access code to the security system."

"So?"

"So…I disarmed it. If the cameras were part of the security system, why were they on a separate sensor? The way it was set up, the cameras would come on even when the guy with you disarmed the system. Why do that? Why record someone who is _supposed_ to be there?"

"I don't know," Elsa said, confused.

Suddenly Anna was looming over her, and a finger thwopped her on the head. "Hello, because they wanted to have you on video without you knowing it!"

"Ow!"

"I know it's late, but pay attention." Anna resumed her pacing. "We have a piece-of-shit cabin out in Bumfuck Egypt with a security system and a pretty fancy video recorder. So what does that mean?" She jabbed her finger at Elsa. "I think the NPs took you there to interrogate you. But maybe you're not completely cooperative. Which doesn't really surprise me, even in the short time I've known you."

"Hey!"

"Quiet, I'm thinking."

"Well, don't hurt yourself." Elsa crossed her arms and glared at the younger woman.

Anna flashed a pleased grin, but it quickly faded as she went on. "So they have what they think is a safe place to question you. But they're not sure how difficult you're going to be. Or…they think someone might try to kill you. So they record the interrogations, just in case you turn up missing later on."

Elsa slumped over the table, head in her hands. "Awfully prophetic of them, wasn't it? The whole 'someone might try to kill me' thing?"

There came the brief touch of a hand on her back, and the creak of a chair as Anna settled back at the table. "Look, I feel really bad about this, but…"

"But what?" Elsa asked, not looking up.

"I probably need to turn you in."

"What?!" Elsa jerked so hard that she kicked Marshmallow, who slunk from under the table and gave her a pathetic _woof_. She lurched to her feet. "I thought you were going to help me!"

Anna spread her hands in front of her. "Just listen to me for a second! I'm guessing the NPs have you in some kind of protective custody. Maybe not in Witness Protection, but I bet that step is not too far away. One of their agents gets killed, and I probably winged the shooter. And I'm on the video."

"And…?"

"If the NPs ID me, they will crawl up my butt with a flashlight. I could get in big trouble, Elsa. Losing my PI license might be the least of my worries. Breaking and entering, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting-"

"I told you, I'm helping them!"

"And how do I know that, if you won't tell me what's going on?!" Anna was on her feet as well, face flushed with anger.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Elsa took a deep breath and settled herself back into her chair, regarding the other woman with a cool gaze. "You know, Anna, you may have a problem that you haven't considered."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"What, exactly, are you planning to tell the NPs when you turn me in?"

"Oh, I don't know. The truth, maybe?"

Elsa leaned forward in her chair. "All right, let's have a look at the truth. You were following me because someone that you don't know and can't identify paid you to do so. So we only have your word for that. You were able to follow me even though the National Police _assured_ me that no one could do that."

Elsa tapped her finger on the table to emphasize each point. " _You_ somehow got the alarm code – I'm sure that the NPs didn't share that with you. _You_ were in that cabin tonight. _You're_ on the video. The agent that was with me is dead. _You_ fired your gun. You _say_ you shot the shooter, but you don't have any proof that anyone else was even there."

Anna's face whitened. Elsa felt a pang of guilt, but pressed on relentlessly. "So the proven facts are that I was at the cabin, you were at the cabin, you fired your gun and an agent is dead. What conclusion would you draw?"

Anna slammed her hand on the table. Marshmallow whined and retreated all the way across the small den. "My little Walther can't fire the ammo that killed that guy!"

"So you got rid of the other gun."

"Then why would I take you with me? Why wouldn't I have killed you back there?"

Elsa shrugged. "I'm not telling you what I think. I'm merely speculating as to what the National Police might think. It looks suspicious on the surface. But if there are no red flags in your past, they might believe you. They'll probably just investigate you for a year or so, then drop it if they don't find anything."

She glanced at Anna, whose eyebrows scrunched into a single russet line across her forehead, her fists clenching into white-knuckled balls. She wondered briefly if Anna might punch her. _I wouldn't blame her if she did_.

Elsa rose. "You can drop me at NP headquarters if you want. Do you know where it is?"

"Okay, you've made your point," Anna growled. "Sit your ass down before I knock you down."

Elsa sat quickly, knees wobbly with relief. Anna dropped back into the other chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Marshmallow trotted back and nudged his mistress' hand. Anna stroked his big head for a few minutes before speaking.

"Look, I'm sorry I got angry. But I didn't ask for all this shit to be dumped on me."

"I know. Believe me, I never wanted anyone else to get dragged into this either. But for what it's worth…" she met Anna's eyes, "if you hadn't been there, I would probably be dead. So…thank you. For saving my life."

Anna looked down at the table, but she pinkened under her freckles, a small grin creeping across her face. It was kind of cute.

"So what do we do now?" Anna asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Elsa fingered her mug. "I need to get away from here, away from the city. I need some space to think."

"What about the NPs?" Anna asked. "If you're working with them, I'm guessing you cut some kind of a deal with them?"

Elsa gave her a thin smile. "No, actually we had not come to any kind of agreement yet. And even if we had, I think I have grounds for renegotiation."

"Still, they have to be looking for you. They won't be too happy if you skip town."

"I don't care. I'm not all that pleased with them right now either."

"What about whoever tried to kill you?"

"I can think about that once I'm away from here," Elsa said. "I may end up going back to the NPs, but I just don't know yet."

"Where will you go?" Anna asked. "And how are you planning to get there?"

Elsa hesitated, wary, and Anna leaned toward her. "Elsa, this doesn't work if you don't trust me."

"I… I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me," Elsa said, worrying her hands together.

"I can take care of myself, thanks," Anna said. "Look, I'm taking a big chance on you. The NPs don't exactly investigate petty theft. I've seen enough to know that they probably need you to take down some big-time crooks. If I let their star witness walk away and they find out, where will I be?"

Elsa thought quickly. "What if I promise to come back if they can guarantee my safety?"

Anna's eyes held hers. "What guarantees that you'll come back at all?"

Trust. She wasn't sure that she could see it in that steady blue-green gaze, but that's what it came down to in the end. If she trusted Anna with her life, Anna would trust Elsa with her future. But there were no guarantees for either of them.

"You could come with me." _Wait, what?_

Anna's whole body started, her eyes widening. "Wait, what?"

 _I must be crazy._ Aloud, she said, "If the DVR wasn't destroyed, then it's only a matter of time before the NPs know you were at the cabin. And what about the man you shot? If he can identify you to whoever hired him, then your life is in danger too."

Anna's throat bobbed. Clearly she had not considered that. Elsa rushed on as another thought occurred to her. "Anna, what if the person who hired you to follow me had you followed as well? What if they used you to set up the shooting?"

"But…if they could follow me, they could follow you. Why have me in the middle?"

"Maybe they wanted you to take the blame."

Anna looked sick. "Oh _shit_." She slapped a hand to her head and then was up and pacing again. "Anonymous client. Big wad of cash. How could I have been so _stupid_?" After a few minutes, she leaned her head back, puffing her cheeks and blowing out a long breath. "So what's your plan?"

Elsa worried her lower lip. Trust. _Here goes nothing._

"I have a safe deposit box at my bank. There's some cash in it, and an ID and credit card with another name on them. They should take us as far as we want to go."

"Okay. Then what?"

"We head north."

"Where north?"

"I have a place in the mountains."

"Wow, okay, that's cool. Wait, is it in your name? Because they can check for that, you know."

"No, it's actually owned by a corporation, of which I am an officer under my other name."

Marshmallow came over to lean against Anna, and she bent down to pat him. "How long will we be gone?"

Elsa thought for a minute. How long to flee to a new life? "A few days. A week at most."

Anna knelt down and buried her hands in Marshmallow's ruff, scratching and rubbing. "Okay, I guess I can ask the kid downstairs to look after Marshmallow for a few days. You'll like that, wontcha, boy? You like Olaf, dontcha?"

Marshmallow let out a rumbling woof, indicating that he did indeed like Olaf, whoever that was.

"Okay, well, I guess that's decided," Anna said, getting to her feet. She retrieved a leash from a hook near the front door and snapped on Marshmallow's collar. The dog immediately began whining and spinning in excited circles, almost upending Anna. "I need to take Marshmallow out to, um, take care of his business. You should get some sleep. Bedroom is through there," she finished, pointing.

"I can't take your bed," Elsa protested. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"Oh, it's fine, I'll sleep on the couch," Anna said, waving her hand. "It's pretty comfortable, I've actually slept there a lot, you know, falling asleep playing video games, or whatever, and you're my guest, so you should have the bed to yourself, not that I wouldn't want to sh – and you know what, I need to shut up and take the dog out, so I'll see you in the morning, except that it's already morning, so I guess I'll see you in a few hours."

Anna slammed out the door with Marshmallow in tow, leaving Elsa in stunned silence, with a twinge in her stomach that she couldn't quite identify. _Well, that was…strange_.

She retreated to the bedroom and collapsed on the mattress, fully clothed. The stress and exhaustion of the night's events hit her like a freight train, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

 **A/N:** My project is winding down, so hopefully I can get back to posting on a weekly basis. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far! As always, reviews are eagerly devoured and much appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney, not me._

* * *

"…the victim has been identified as Baron Eric Solholm of Grøntfjell. Baron Solholm and his companion, who has yet to be identified, were the apparent victims of an armed robbery-"

Looking up from his newspaper, Agdar grabbed the remote and turned up the TV's volume. He had been half-listening to the morning news, as was his habit as he prepared for his day, but the name had caught his attention.

"… Solholm claimed to be a distant cousin of King Haldor, and was in Arendelle City to present himself as a potential heir to the throne. The Royal Press Office-"

Agdar turned off the TV. Tragic as it was, Solholm's death had probably spared the kingdom a wealth of embarrassment. The man had been a tabloid fixture in his youth, jetting all over the Continent, racing, gambling and screwing any woman he could coax into a horizontal position. The Solholm fortune, already in steep decline when Eric inherited, had been completely squandered. Only the Solholm manor house in Grøntfjell and a mountain of debt remained.

But then again, nothing was proven. Solholm hadn't lived long enough after making his claim for his lineage to be verified. Agdar would've heard if it had been. And since the man had left no known progeny, the Solholm line was at an end. There would be no further investigation.

Agdar filled his coffee cup and folded his newspaper, tucking it into the Infernal Briefcase that Weselton had given him. He cursed the scrawny troll for backing him into this corner, and himself for allowing it to happen.

In fairness, he really had no idea how Weselton had stumbled upon his bribery scheme. Agdar had been very cautious, especially at first. He had used his extensive knowledge of both Nasjonsting and the Royal bureaucracy to analyze the players who might even a tiny bit capable of furthering his goals, and determined whether or not they could be bribed. Many members of the Arendellian legislature were wealthy, but most were not, and serving in the Nasjonsting was often a financial nightmare. Councilors had to maintain two households, and living in the capital was not cheap. It could also be lonely, as their families usually did not accompany them. Bureaucrats in the Royal agencies were even more susceptible – they were, as a rule, overworked and underpaid, and for most part, unappreciated.

The carrots Agdar dangled were small at first, but quickly grew larger if the target showed any interest. And he had chosen wisely, because he had never had a target not agree to trade influence and votes for the promise of rewards in the future. Agdar had initially been surprised at the easy agreements to delayed gratification. In his experience, most people were impatient and wanted their rewards now. But then again, the retirement packages that Agdar had promised his most important marks would be almost impossible to exhaust. Perhaps people were more far-sighted than he gave them credit for.

Well, far-sighted when it came to their own self-interests. If they showed the same far-sightedness in their considerations for Arendelle, he wouldn't have to bribe them in the first place.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He opened it to admit a muscular, clean-shaven man, whom Agdar knew only as Gustaf. To all appearances, Gustaf was his driver, an outward symbol, along with his exclusive Old City townhouse, of Agdar's enormous material success. In reality, Gustaf was one of Weselton's men, keeping an eye on Agdar and making sure he carried out the task of bribing councilors with his own money, and now spying on them for blackmail.

To Agdar, Gustaf was the symbol of his both his moral and material decline. The bribery had cut into much of his hard-earned wealth, and his servitude to Weselton had taken him right back to the world he come from – Arendelle Castle. A world of royalty and obligation, where pampered lifestyles existed side-by-side with crushing expectations.

Agdar had observed this complicated world from a perspective that was both intimate and remote – his family had been part of the Arendelle Castle servant staff. Young Agdar had followed his valet father around the stately rooms, laying out clothes, shining shoes, and generally seeing to the comfort of his betters. He watched his mother help prepare and serve both lavish dishes for state dinners, and small snacks that she snuck to the staff children and to young Prince Kristen. Agdar and the prince were of an age, and became as close as two boys could, given the difference in their stations. They spent much of their young years running and playing around the Castle grounds, and their wild years together drinking, chasing skirts, and driving fast cars.

But despite his close friendship with Prince Kristen, Agdar had not felt that he entirely belonged to himself until he'd left the Castle and built his own success. And now that success was in decline. It was a decline that, if Agdar was honest with himself, had been inevitable from the day that he had served as a pallbearer at Kris's funeral.

The day that King Haldor had traded governance for mourning.

Gustaf stood waiting, ready to whisk Agdar away to do the bidding of a loathsome man who was himself descended from royalty. Agdar hated the irony too much to appreciate it. He waved the man into the breakfast nook, offering coffee with a raised eyebrow and point of his finger.

Gustaf declined the coffee, then said, "He sends his respects."

"Accepted," Agdar replied, reseating himself at the table. "And please send Mr. Weselton my most profound wishes that he not get even one day older."

The man frowned, and Agdar could almost hear the gears grinding in his head as he processed the statement. Finally he seemed to decide that ignoring it was the best option. "There's been a development that he thinks you should be aware of," he said.

"And what is that?" Agdar asked.

"Elsa Kjarensen is working with the National Police to bring you down."

Agdar felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. He shoved his breakfast plate away, afraid for a brief instant that he would puke all over himself. "What in the hell are you talking about?" he managed.

"Mr. Weselton's asset inside the National Police has discovered this. He thought you should be aware."

"You mean the NPs entrapped her? Forced her to work for them?" _And doesn't that sound familiar?_

"Our information is that she went to them voluntarily."

Agdar couldn't fathom that. What reason would Elsa have to go to the NPs, other than coercion? Her feelings on the ecological and economic issues they lobbied for were even stronger than his. She was young, but not naïve. She knew what was at stake. They'd talked about the hypothetical, about what might happen if they fell under suspicion, but she'd never given any indication that she might turn on him.

Then again, Elsa was used to getting her way, and could be ruthless at times. Was this her way of finding out why he had shut her out? Their last meeting had been full of epithets, accusations and tears. He'd lied to her. He'd ordered her out. Had he pushed her into the arms of the National Police?

Regaining his composure, Agdar demanded, "Tell me everything."

Gustaf told him a wild story about a night at a cabin, betrayal, gunfire, and death, a tale that was likely a mixture of truths, half-truths and outright lies. Or maybe not total lies - Gustaf wasn't intelligent enough to keep such things sorted out. But then again, he was probably just repeating what he had been told. Agdar would have to sort that out later, but for now he asked the question that was uppermost in his mind:

"Where is Elsa now?"

"Unknown. She's disappeared. The National Police are looking for her."

"But she's still alive?"

"At the time of the last report, yes."

So Elsa was on the run. When he had first brought her in on his scheme, he had insisted that she make a plan to bail out. She had assured him that she had, but their mutual agreement was that they would keep their plans secret from each other.

Agdar swiped his hand down his suddenly sweaty face. "How much has she told them?" he asked.

"Not enough to warrant an arrest or prosecution. The source believes she has only told them about the way your bribery is carried out, but has not actually given them any names yet. Except yours, of course."

Of course. Elsa was too smart to give up everything at once. She would string them along, offering just enough to keep them interested. That wouldn't stop them from following up on whatever she had already told them, but the targets were hardly dishing out lutefisk from a street corner food cart. The NPs would have tread lightly.

"And is Weaseltown looking for her as well?"

"That's not really your concern, Mr. Erickksen."

Agdar just stared at him. Had the idiot really just said that?

"The hell it's not," he finally retorted. "I'm the one looking at the dungeon if the NPs find her first. Should I be making plans to leave the country?"

"Your instructions are to continue on as planned," Gustaf said. "That means catching your train to Sornland this morning."

"Yes, of course. God forbid I should refrain from doing my part in helping Weaseltown destroy the country."

Gustaf furrowed his brow a bit and then shook his head. "We need to leave in ten minutes for you to catch your train." He picked up the Infernal Briefcase and walked out the front door.

Agdar watched him go. Seized by a sudden rage, he grabbed his breakfast plate and slung it across the kitchen. The plate shattered against the pantry door, salmon and eggs and tomatoes splattering in a colorful mishmash across the polished wood floor. Agdar shoved his fingers through his hair as he gazed at the mess, and his first coherent thought was that his housekeeper was going to be really pissed when she got here.

He shuffled into his study and dropped into an armchair. Slumping back against the cushions, he studied the painting hanging over his desk. It was a picture of young woman, clad in a royal blue bunad with a magenta cloak, standing at the edge of a forest high up in the mountains. The painting was well over a hundred years old, done by one of Arendelle's most famous artists. It had hung in a private gallery in Arendelle Castle for most of its existence, making its way to Agdar only a month after Kris's funeral. No explanation, no note.

The brilliance of the colors, the striking contrast of the vibrant young woman to her stark surroundings, the subtle genius of the brushstrokes – it never failed to mesmerize him. The spark of her eyes, the solemn determination in her face, each detail still so vivid over a century after the paint was first put to the canvas. The painting was his most prized possession.

He would have to sell it soon, and probably his house as well. He was running out of money to fund his retirement scheme, and the painting and the house both would fetch enormous sums. He felt guilty that he hadn't already sold it, but it was soothing and beautiful, one of the few things that still brought him pleasure. Perhaps he could sell the painting back to the royal family, and when he inevitably went bankrupt, he would be able to enjoy it once again.

Assuming he could get the Castle to hire him as a valet.

Assuming he didn't end up in prison, or dead at the hands of Weaseltown and Westergard.

Agdar rose and went over to the painting, stretching his hand toward it. His fingers didn't quite make contact with the canvas, but hovered just over the face of the girl. Not for the first time, he imagined he could see Elsa in her. The stubborn set of the jaw, the resolve reflected in the large blue eyes, and in just the right light, the way the girl's strawberry-blonde hair took on a golden cast, and he thought of Elsa.

Elsa. He still remembered when he first met her, at a lecture at Arendelle University. She was nineteen, with two graduate degrees already. Brilliant. Beautiful. Reserved to the point of almost total social ineptness. Her Ice Queen demeanor was already well established among the university's graduate science departments.

Yet ten minutes after he coaxed her into a conversation, he knew she had what it took to thrive in his business. A few months of working with her proved his instincts correct. Intense about the same environmental issues as he was, she had an unmatched ability to get her message across without being overbearing, or even overtly pushing it. She could stroke an ego and deflect an advance with the same practiced ease, and if she came across as a bit…well, _chilly_ …it certainly hadn't diminished her effectiveness.

She was the gifted, clever daughter he would never have. But how would he protect his little girl now? He stared at the young woman in the painting with all the anguish of a desperate parent who sees death bearing down upon his precious child.

But protect her he would. Nothing Weaseltown or Westergard could say would convince him that Elsa had betrayed him. But she was now in their way, which put her life in danger. He had no doubts that Weselton and Westergard were behind the killing of the NP agent, regardless of Gustaf claimed. He had to find her, and not just for her or for himself. He had to find Elsa for everyone in Arendelle.

* * *

Kristoff stretched and yawned behind his metal desk. His spartan office, furnished in the style that Kai had dubbed Government-Issue Ugly, was located in a squat concrete and glass building in the Virkshomet area of Arendelle City. The building, a mile or so from NP Headquarters, was one of several places where the National Police rented office space for agents who were involved in sensitive investigations. Since almost every investigation the Anti-Corruption Division conducted was sensitive, Kristoff spent far more time in rented offices than he did in his assigned cubicle back at HQ. The targets of their investigations were not what Kristoff thought of as ODCs, or Ordinary Decent Criminals. They were usually people that made the national news and appeared on the front pages of the major dailies, people whose positions of public trust made their crimes all the worse.

Understandably, the National Police did not want such investigations run in the crowded Headquarters building. Agents were as prone to shop talk as any other type of worker, and even the most innocuous comments about a sensitive case could lead to disastrous leaks.

Kristoff rubbed his eyes. Almost every part of him protested his lack of sleep: his gritty, bloodshot eyes, his dry sinuses, his scratchy throat. But at least he was alive. Unlike Persie Norberg. At least no one was knocking at the door of _his_ house, offering sympathetic looks and mostly meaningless platitudes to Bulda and Grandpabbie.

He had called Aggie Norberg as soon as he left the crime scene at the cabin, letting her know that he needed to see her. Kristoff hadn't said why he needed to see her, but Aggie knew. Kristoff had heard it in her voice, in the strain and resignation of the few words the woman had managed to get out. And he had seen it in her face as soon as she opened the door of the Norberg's small house in a working-class area on the outskirts of the city.

Going directly from a crime scene to the home of a murdered agent was not exactly by the book. Nor was doing a next-of-kin notification without being accompanied by an agent of higher rank. The NP leadership wanted to show that they cared when they lost one of their own. Technically, Kristoff should have waited for Sinclair, or Sinclair's boss, to go with him. But he had waited for no one. Persie was one of his agents, and Kristoff's responsibility for him included telling his family that he was dead.

He hated every minute of it. But it had to be done, and ripping the bandage off was a lot easier than slowly peeling it off.

He had offered what comfort he could to Aggie Norberg. She didn't seem to blame him for her husband's death, despite the fact that he could tell her little about the details. _I'm sorry, Aggie – the investigation is ongoing._ Then he could only stand stiffly as her shoulders curled in and her body shook with sobs. The teenage son was a whole different story. He had held his mother and glowered at Kristoff from behind unshed tears, and Kristoff could almost hear the silent curses being heaped on his head. There was plenty of blame in the boy's furious blue eyes.

Kristoff could hardly disagree.

A rap on the doorjamb had him lifting his head. Kai stood in the doorway. He looked as tired as Kristoff felt, though Kristoff noted that the older man's suit was still crisp and unwrinkled. Kristoff couldn't seem to manage that on his best of days, and he was suddenly self-conscious about his rumpled trousers and untucked shirt, and very aware of the fact that he hadn't showered in more than twenty-four hours. He took a surreptitious sniff in the direction of his armpit. _Yuck_.

Kai set a cup of coffee on Kristoff's desk and settled into a crusty chair with a cracked vinyl seat.

Kristoff nodded his thanks. "I could really use some good news, Kai," he said, taking a careful sip of the hot black liquid.

"Well," Kai began, crossing his legs as he sipped his own coffee, "I suppose that part of my news could be construed as 'good.'"

Kristoff made a 'give it to me' motion with his hands.

"FU found the DVR."

Kristoff smiled for the first time in…well, forever, it seemed. "That's great news!" Then he saw the small shake of Kai's head. "No?"

"It has a bullet hole in it."

Kristoff's shoulders sagged. "Useless?"

"We don't know yet. FU took it to the tech people. The hope is that the data storage part will be relatively undamaged, perhaps allowing for retrieval of at least part of the video. I left them instructions to call you as soon as they know something."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

Kai shifted in his chair. "Did you see Aggie?"

"Yeah."

"How did it go?"

"It was rough," Kristoff admitted. He studied his coffee briefly before taking a gulp. The hot liquid scalded his mouth, and he struggled not to spew it all over his desk. He forced it down, trying not to cough. He partially succeeded, getting away with a quiet hack before he swiped his sleeve across his mouth. "What about you? Have you been to see her yet?"

"No," Kai answered. "I plan on going out there - "

A sharp rap at the door interrupted him. They looked over to see Captain Jan Chifu standing in the office doorway.

Both men jumped to their feet. Kristoff tried to shove his shirttail into his suit pants, dismally noting a coffee stain on his white dress shirt as he did so. He buttoned his suit jack to try and hide it, but the crease between Chifu's brows and twitching of his scraggly moustache told Kristoff that his disheveled appearance had already been noted.

"Agent Haugland, would you excuse us?" Chifu said. "I need to have a word with Inspector Bjorgman."

"Of course." Kai gave him an almost courtly nod. "I'll catch up with you later, Kristoff."

"Sure."

Kai left, and Captain Chifu closed the office door. "Sit, Inspector, and let's get down to business."

* * *

 **A/N:** This story has over 1000 views! Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, and especially to those who have reviewed. I alway appreciate the feedback, and I do respond to reviews. Also, a big thanks to those who have followed/favorited! Please, hit the review if you feel so inclined - Jae


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Frozen_

* * *

Elsa woke with a start. Strange bed. Strange room. The sound of drawers opening and closing. _Where am I?_

She rolled to her side. A naked woman stood in front of a dresser, and all Elsa could see was a bare female backside. A quite toned backside, some part of her noted before a pair of white panties slid up to cover it. Elsa's eyes moved up a slim back that melded into a pair of freckled shoulders, and above those, a slender neck with damp auburn hair twisted into a messy bun at the nape. As she watched, dazed, a green sports bra was tugged into place over those narrow shoulders.

Then it came rushing back. Anna. Anna's apartment. The cell phone. Driving around the city. The terror. The headlong flight from the cabin.

Persie Norberg's destroyed face.

"Oh, God…" Elsa croaked, covering her eyes with her arm.

There was a startled "Oh!" and a loud thump, followed by a stream of muffled curses. Then Anna climbed to her feet next to the bed, hauling a pair of jeans up over her thighs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she said. "I thought I could get in and shower and get out and let you sleep a little longer. You seemed kind of comatose."

"It's all right," Elsa said. She struggled to sit up. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and every part of her body ached. _I'm too young to feel this old_. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, setting off a little wave of nausea, and she held her head in her hands until it passed.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I think so." Elsa looked up to see Anna finish pulling a t-shirt down over her belly. Her own stomach swooped a bit.

"You sure? You look a little pale, well, paler than you usually are, even though that's saying a lot, you've got the fairest skin I've ever seen, not that that's bad or anything, it's really pretty, and - "

"I'm okay, really," Elsa cut her off. Anna didn't look all that great herself. Elsa took in the younger woman's pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. Bluish bruising had formed around the cut on her forehead. _I should've taken the couch and made her sleep in her bed._

"Okay, good. I'm going to run out and take care of some stuff, make arrangements for Marshmallow, that kind of thing." Anna shook her hair out of the bun and started braiding it with quick, sure fingers. "Why don't you grab a shower? You're welcome to borrow any of my clothes, since yours are kinda…"

She made a vague gesture at the dirty, rumpled skirt that Elsa still wore. Elsa's pinched feet reminded her that she hadn't even taken her shoes off before she collapsed into the bed. Every part of her felt grubby and worn out. A shower sounded like the next best thing to heaven. "That sounds…good. Thank you."

"Okay, well, I'll be back as soon as I can," Anna said as she headed out of the bedroom. "There's coffee in the kitchen if you want some."

Elsa watched her go, then slipped off her heels and shuffled into the bathroom. "Oh, hell…" she mumbled when she saw her wan face in the mirror. Bloodshot blue eyes stared back at her. Half of her hair had fallen out of its bun, and stuck out in ten different directions. It was a wonder Anna hadn't passed out from fright when she saw her. She sniffed.

 _Ewww. Even if Anna passed out, my stench might revive her._

She turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes. Looking around for a towel, she realized that the bathroom was in the same state of half-unpacked disarray as the den, bottles of shampoo, shower gel and other toiletries crammed into boxes with cleaning supplies and washcloths. She found a towel under the sink, then stepped under the warm water, trying to wash away the dirt, the blood, the smell of the previous night's events.

Too bad the water couldn't wash away the memories. Persie Norberg's remaining eye seemed to stare balefully back at her whenever she squeezed her own eyes shut.

Suddenly her chest heaved and she sank to her knees, her body racked with sobs. The adrenaline and terror were gone, leaving only grief and crippling guilt. Water cascaded over her as she trembled on the floor of the tub. She covered her face with her hands, trying to stifle the braying cries that might bring Anna running.

When she finally got control of her shuddering breathing, Elsa found herself with her forehead pressed against the bottom of the tub. Cold water drummed against her back, and there appeared to be a thin layer of frost over the porcelain. _That's odd…_ She brushed a finger over it and the frost dissipated. _Wow. I wonder what this tub is made of._

By the time Elsa got to her feet, there was no sign of any frost, and she wondered if she had imagined it. The hot water was long gone, the shower now cold, but not unpleasantly so. Elsa quickly washed her hair and body. Hopefully the cold water would help with her eyes and nose, which she knew had to be red and swollen from her tears.

By the time she dried off and returned to the bedroom, she felt almost human again. A brief search of Anna's dresser and closet yielded a pair of jeans and a suitable blouse, but she quickly discovered that Anna's proportions were a bit different from her own. The jeans would not fully close over her hips, and the blouse strained across her chest, the buttons hanging on for dear life.

 _If one of these buttons pops off, it could injure someone._

A few more attempts and she finally settled on a pair of yoga pants and a plain white t-shirt. She took a pair of sneakers from the closet; at least she and Anna shared a shoe size. Weaving her hair into a single thick braid, she headed for the kitchen, following the enticing smell of fresh coffee. She had just poured herself a mug when Anna appeared from the front hallway with Marshmallow on his leash, carrying a couple of paper bags and trailed by a chubby boy with curly dark hair.

"Who is that?" the boy asked Anna, peering at Elsa from behind his black-framed glasses.

"This is Elsa."

The boy scurried over to Elsa and threw his arms around her. "Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

"Urk!" Elsa stiffened as her breath rushed out of her, her arms trapped against her sides. She flapped her hands helplessly, clueless as to how to react to the pubescent boy whose head was buried in her shoulder.

"Um…hi?" she squeaked out. She threw a desperate look at Anna, who had a hand over her mouth. Marshmallow made a chuffing sound that sounded suspiciously like a doggy laugh. _Et tu, Marshmallow?_

Finally Anna cleared her throat. "Olaf." She walked over and tugged on the boy's t-shirt. "Olaf, didn't we talk about this?"

Olaf released Elsa so quickly that she almost fell over. "Yes," he said in a small voice.

"And what did we say?'

Olaf studied the floor, scuffing the toe of his sneaker back and forth. "That not everyone likes warm hugs and that I should ask first."

"That's right. And what should you do now?"

Olaf pushed his glasses up his nose and furrowed his brows. "Say I'm sorry?"

"To who?"

"Her?"

"She has a name."

Olaf looked at Elsa, his dark eyes wide and watery. "I'm sorry, Elsa," he whispered.

 _Aww_ … He was oddly endearing. "It's all right. You just startled me, that's all." She leaned forward, thinking she might hug him, but caught herself, and ended up giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder instead.

Olaf favored her with a buck-toothed smile. "She's nice," he said to Anna in a loud whisper. "And pretty. She should be your girlfriend."

Elsa's mouth dropped open, eyes darting between Anna and Olaf. "I – her – what?" she sputtered.

Anna laughed. She let her gaze travel up and down Elsa's frame, her eyes widening perceptibly. Elsa felt heat explode across her face, suddenly aware of how _snug_ the yoga pants really were. She felt a strange flutter in her belly.

 _She's messing with me again, she has to be._

"Yeah, maybe she should be," Anna was saying to Olaf. "We're just friends, though."

 _Not even that._ But maybe they could be? It was a strangely appealing thought. Maybe in another life, one that didn't include corruption, murder and flight from the authorities.

"She'd be a lot better than _him_ ," Olaf said, studying the floor again.

Anna's face darkened. "Can't disagree with you there, honey." She ruffled the boy's hair. "Let me get Marshmallow's stuff for you."

Anna gathered up Marshmallow's food and water bowls, a big plastic bag of dog food, along with several balls and chew toys. She put everything in a tote bag and gave it to Olaf.

"I need to talk to Elsa, so I'll bring him down there in a bit," she told Olaf. "I'm only going to be gone for a few days. You're sure it's okay with your mom?"

"Yeah. She likes Marshmallow too." Olaf pushed his glasses up. "Can we play Warcraft when you get back?"

"Only if you're done with the next part of your project," Anna said sternly as she walked him to the door.

"I will be," Olaf promised. "Bye!" He trundled out of the apartment.

"Here," Anna said, indicating the paper bag she had dropped on the table. "I picked up some breakfast." She went to the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee before returning to the table. "Hope you like sweets," she said, pulling an array of pastries from the bag.

Elsa took her coffee to the table. Anna wasn't kidding about the sweets. She picked out a chocolate-filled puff.

"I'm sorry about Olaf," Anna said. "He's a really sweet kid, but he's clueless about what's appropriate. Pretty much a complete social moron."

 _I can relate to that_. "Shouldn't he be at school today?"

"Nah, he graduated secondary back in the spring."

"Really? How old is he?"

"Thirteen. He's a genius, at least in matters academic." Anna took a bite of something jelly-filled, catching a purple blob with her napkin. "Probably why he struggles with the whole people thing. He's trying to get into Tech's robotics program. He's pretty young, but there's a lot of people like him over there. Social disasters, I mean."

Well, that sounded familiar. No wonder Elsa found him endearing. "At least he's not afraid to touch people," she muttered into her mug. Anna cocked an eyebrow at her. _Did I say that out loud?_

"No, he isn't," Anna said. "He loves to hug people and be hugged, and he has no concept of personal space. I'm trying to help him learn so he won't be creepy when he gets older."

"Good idea." Elsa shuddered at the thought. She had plenty of experience with men who either had no concept of personal space, or chose to ignore it. "Why did he say that about me…being your…your…um…girlfriend?"

"Oh, that…" Anna snickered briefly, and then studied her coffee. "My ex is a real asshole. It took me a while to realize it. Or maybe I didn't want to realize it. He was so gorgeous and charming and attentive, and always knew the right thing to say. Marshmallow didn't like him, and he was cruel to Olaf, but I chose not to see it. Not until I caught him with another woman."

She met Elsa's eyes. "Olaf just wants people to be happy. He's pretty perceptive about feelings, but…really…innocent about them. You were nice to him, so he thinks you'll be nice to me. Therefore we should be together."

Elsa felt that weird flutter in her stomach again.

Anna downed the last bite of her jellyroll, then gave her a wicked grin. "And you do look pretty hot in those yoga pants."

Elsa almost choked on her pastry while Anna cackled. _She's definitely messing with me_.

"What about you?" Anna asked, serious now. "Any crazy exes – male or female – that we need to worry about looking for you?"

With a little twinge, Elsa realized that the only person who would miss her was Agdar. _Maybe_. She wasn't about to tell Anna that she had never been in a relationship. Oh, she'd been on a few dates, usually disastrous dinners that lapsed into awkward silences well before dessert. There had been one in particular, with a handsome businessman that she desperately wanted to impress. But once the conversation veered away from work, she had nothing to say. She just couldn't…connect. Never had been able to connect.

Except with a certain freckle-faced boy with sea-blue eyes, who had swept her away on a banana-seat bicycle when she was seven years old. Elsa wasn't sure that really counted, even if it was the best summer of her life.

Before the tutors and the isolation. Before Mama got sick. When Papa was still there, physically and emotionally.

"No," she mumbled. "No crazy exes."

"Okay, good, hopefully that will make things less complicated." Anna retrieved the other bag she'd brought in and took two phones out of it. She pushed one across the table. "Here. I've already put this number in it."

"I have a phone," Elsa said.

"Turn it off. We're going to use these."

"Why?"

"They're burners. No way to track them," Anna explained. "The NPs have your phone number, right?"

"Yes," Elsa said warily. Every agent on Kristoff's team had her number.

"Turn it off. Don't make any calls on it, no texts, no email, no nothing. They'll be looking for it. I bet they want you pretty bad right now, as a material witness if nothing else."

Elsa swallowed hard. She quickly retrieved her purse and shut off her phone. "Do you think they've tracked it already?"

"Probably not. I think they need a court order first, and unless they hauled a judge out of bed last night, I doubt they have one. They'll get one as soon as they can, though."

Elsa stared at her phone like it was a viper. She'd read about privacy problems with mobile phones, but it had all seemed so abstract. Well, it was all too real now. She wondered if the NPs could track her phone when it was powered off, like the odious American NSA. She had a sudden urge to smash it, the way Anna had with Persie Norberg's.

But the phone also seemed like the only connection to the life she had.

As if reading her thoughts, Anna said, "It might be only temporary, depending on what you decide to do."

"Right," Elsa said. Marshmallow butted against her hand, and she stroked his big head, his silky fur soothing between her fingers. "So…Marshmallow is all taken care of?"

"Yeah, it's all set. Olaf will look after him until I get back." Anna checked her new phone. "The bank will open soon. We'll go there, and then we can take off. How are we getting to the place in the mountains?"

"The fastest way is to fly," Elsa said. "There's a small commuter plane that shuttles between here and the airfield at Gjoheim. There's a train from there."

"Anything else you need to do before we go?"

"Call the caretaker. Make sure the water and power are on, things of that nature."

"Make sure you use the burner. I'm going to take Marshmallow down to Olaf's. Stay away from the windows, okay?"

Elsa nodded. Anna snapped the leash back on Marshmallow and they disappeared through the door. Elsa picked up her new phone and turned it on. There was only one number programmed into it, which she presumed was the one for Anna's burner. Dialing from memory, she called the man who looked after her mountain home when she wasn't there. He assured her that he would have everything taken care of and would pick them up at the airfield.

"You call me when you land, dear, I'll come right over, yah? That way you don't have to get on the train."

"Thank you, Oaken."

The house taken care of, Elsa picked up her coffee and wandered around Anna's apartment. Even discounting the scattered moving boxes, the place seemed like a curious cross between a teenager's room and an adult's home. Video games and DVDs competed for space with books ranging from romance novels to tomes on history and law. In what should have been the dining area, Elsa found a home gym. There was a free-standing strike bag, a speed bag, medicine balls and an assortment of dumbbells and kettlebells. A pair of boxing gloves and a roll of tape lay on a small table next to a water bottle.

Elsa punched idly at the heavy bag and winced at the instant throb in her hand and wrist. She tried to imagine the slender Anna pounding away at the bag. Physically, it seemed so unlikely, but Elsa had no doubt that the younger woman was capable of violence. Beyond Anna's actions at the cabin, Elsa had seen a few flashes of what could be a nasty temper.

Continuing her exploration, Elsa went into the bedroom, taking in details she'd missed earlier. Laundry spilled out of the hamper, and paperbacks littered the nightstand. Several framed photos stood on the dresser. There was one of a young Anna, pig-tailed and freckle-faced, grinning snaggle-toothed from between a young couple. Clearly her parents - Anna had her father's red hair and freckles, and her mother's turquoise eyes. Other photos showed Anna and Olaf at what appeared to be Olaf's graduation, and Anna in Army fatigues, a rifle slung over one shoulder, laughing with a group of other soldiers. So she'd done her compulsory service in the military. That was probably where she learned to shoot.

Elsa wondered if Anna slept with the pistol under her pillow.

Leaving the bedroom, Elsa opened the door to the room next to it. She turned on the light and looked around, surprised. A desk, file cabinet, a sophisticated phone system and shelves filled with books and manuals stood against the back wall. A framed portrait of Joan of Arc hung above the desk. A table to the right held some kind of half-built electronic device and an array of small tools.

On the desk were a laptop computer, a printer, and several neatly arranged file folders. Apparently Anna's spare bedroom also served as her office. Elsa glanced over her shoulder, then went to the desk. If this was Anna's office, maybe the file on her was here. She sifted through the papers on the desk and in the file cabinet. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the office was neat and organized. Anna had a fair number of clients, mostly businesses and law firms.

The sudden ringing of the phone made Elsa almost jump out of her skin. One hand on her chest, she stepped closer to it. The phone had a recording system, and the caller ID displayed the number on the LCD at the base. Elsa recognized the prefix as the one for Sornland. Anna's voice came on, instructing the caller to leave a message.

Elsa froze when the person started talking, her heart stuttering in her chest.

"Where is Elsa Kjarensen?" demanded the voice of Agdar Erikksen.

Agdar sounded very stressed, his voice hoarse as he fired questions into the recorder. Where was Elsa? What had Anna found out? He wanted answers and he wanted them right now. He left a phone number that Elsa didn't recognize, then hung up.

Elsa stood transfixed for a full minute, arms wrapped protectively around herself, her mind swirling with anguish and betrayal. _Agdar hired Anna_. Why? Had he suspected that she'd gone to the NPs? She backed slowly away from the desk, then turned to flee.

And stopped short, a cry dying in her throat as she stared into Anna's angry blue-green eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the delay! School started on Monday, and updates may be sporadic until the dust settles. Thanks for sticking with me - I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen_

A/N: Shout-outs to **Shadowglyder** , **wannasalad** and the guest who posted as **pack** \- you guys had no idea, but your reviews gave me a boost when I really needed it. Thanks so much!

* * *

Agdar hung up the phone and looked warily around at the other people in the station. He wondered who it was. The man in the business suit, pacing with a cell phone glued to his ear? He had been on the train from Arendelle City. The university-age girl with the pink hair and multiple piercings? She'd been on his train too.

It could be anyone. Weselton seemed to have eyes everywhere. Like a toxic mist, you never even saw it coming. It was just on you, all of a sudden, with no warning. Agdar tried not to be overwhelmed by dread and hopelessness.

He had taken a huge risk in calling Anna Aarndahl directly, even from a pay phone, but he was running out of options. His biggest fear, the one that had haunted him from the day that the little troll had announced that Agdar now belonged to him, was that Weselton would try to involve Elsa in his scheme. Or worse, that he would suddenly decide that she was a liability and had to be eliminated. Agdar had pushed Elsa away, but he would never abandon her. He had to make sure that she was protected.

That was why he had hired Anna Aarndahl to follow her. He had actually done what Anna had sarcastically suggested to Elsa the night before – he had Googled 'private investigators' and contacted Aarndahl Investigations, the first one that came up in the results list. It had been the simplest thing he could think of. He hadn't even known that 'A. Aarndahl' was a woman until after he'd hired her.

But he'd discreetly checked her out and found that she had a good reputation among the lawyers and businesses that had used her before. The one report she'd filed so far had been detailed, with care taken to distinguish her speculations from her actual observations. And he comforted himself with the knowledge that Weselton's men would probably be far less suspicious of a young woman than a man.

He briefly considered returning to the ticket counter and purchasing a one-way ticket out of the country. He could get directly to Oslo from here, without going back through Arendelle City. He had a numbered account in Switzerland with enough to keep him in relative comfort for the rest of his life, regardless of where he settled.

A beautiful idea. One easy to fantasize about, but much more difficult to execute.

He envisioned trying to escape. He would get on the train, and a nameless army of suited men would swoop down on him, leading him off to some dismal place where Weselton would tell him, in that nasally voice of his, that usefulness was at an end. In the worst of his imaginings, Elsa would be there too, and Weselton would have her killed before his very eyes.

Or worse, let Westergard have her first.

He'd spent the previous (sleepless) night digging up everything he could about the thirteenth son of Heinrich Westergard, president and largest shareholder of SI Shipping and Trading. The young man was squeaky-clean on the surface, but if half the circulating underground rumors were true…

In the end, Agdar did the only thing that he could do. He left the station and climbed into a cab that whisked him off to see the councilor from Sornland, where he would drive another nail into Lars Brunsvold's coffin. A nail driven with the hammers of a charming smile, backslapping manner and the Infernal Briefcase. A surveillance van would follow Agdar, picking up on every sound uttered during his conversation with the councilor. A simple twist of the briefcase's handle, and there would be enough audio and video to send Brunsvold away for longer than his expected remaining lifespan.

Agdar ran his hands through his hair. There had to be a way out. He just hadn't found it yet.

* * *

It wasn't the pacing businessman, or the pink-haired girl with the piercings. The man seated in one of the hard plastic chairs across from the bank of pay phones was clean-cut, mid-thirties, dressed in casual slacks and a sport coat. He wore a Bluetooth earpiece and tapped on a laptop computer, like so many other travelers. His lips moved, his hand occasionally pressing to the earpiece, as though he was having trouble hearing his caller. His eyes darted after Agdar when he hung up the pay phone and left the station.

What appeared to be an infrared port on the back of the man's laptop was in fact a sensor designed to pluck electronic signals out of the air. Much in the same manner that Anna had gotten the alarm code at the cabin, the sensor snagged the number that Agdar has just called and displayed it at the bottom corner of his screen. The mobile wireless card protruding from the back of the laptop was actually a sensitive microphone that picked up Agdar's voice and transmitted it to the man's earpiece. It came across a little garbled from the ambient conversations going on around him, but one phrase came through clearly:

"Where is Elsa Kjarensen?"

The man relayed the phone number and other information back to his contact. Within minutes, a request went to a particular individual at the phone company, who produced the name of the account holder. Minutes after that, a team was dispatched to Anna Aarndahl's address, with instructions to "deal with" Elsa Kjarensen and anyone who might be with her.

* * *

"Anna!" Elsa squeaked out, wrapping her arms around herself. "You startled me."

Anna scowled as she stepped into the room. "What are you doing in my office?"

"Nothing! I was just wandering around, that's all. I didn't even know you had your office here."

"Because you didn't have any business knowing that. All my client information is here, and a lot of it is confidential." Anna stalked over to the desk, checking the folders with a critical eye. She turned and glared. "I really don't like this, Elsa."

"I'm sorry, I was just…killing time."

"Interesting choice of words."

Elsa didn't know what to say to that. She composed her features and met Anna's eyes, trying to keep her gaze away from the phone. Anna must not have heard Agdar's message.

 _Agdar hired Anna to follow me_. Had Anna killed Persie Norberg? Would she kill Elsa as well, maybe dump her body in the fjord? Maybe she would wait until after they visited the bank, when she would get her hands on several thousand kroners in cash, and a new ID and credit card to boot? Elsa's mind spiraled, threatening to flee to the land of irrational thoughts.

"Come on, let's finish getting ready," Anna said, stopping Elsa's descent into the rabbit hole. She turned to leave the office. "There's a spare backpack in my closet you can use."

"I don't need to pack. I have clothing at my other place."

"Take the fucking backpack, Elsa. It will look weird if you travel without some type of luggage." Anna gave her one last scowl and left the room.

Elsa trailed slowly after her, wondering if she was following Anna to her death. But Anna could have killed her at any time between when they left the cabin until right now. At the trailhead or the fjord, or in the alley a few blocks over. Leaving her dead at the cabin would have been the easiest choice, as Anna herself had pointed out.

Yes, the cabin would have been the easiest option, save one thing: Agdar probably wanted to know how much she had already told the NPs. That would explain why Anna was so eager to get her to talk. And once she did, Anna would eliminate her.

 _And here I am, getting ready to fly off to my mountain castle with my potential murderer in tow_.

She trudged into the bedroom. Digging through the closet, she located the spare backpack, then went through the charade of packing so that she could go along with Anna's charade of protecting her. Jeans and blouses that would never fit her were tossed into the bag, along with a toothbrush and other assorted travel-sized sundries that she managed to unearth from the disaster of a bathroom.

When she returned to the bedroom, Anna was on her hands and knees with her head in the closet. Her shirttail had ridden up, and Elsa swallowed at the sight of the pistol butt protruding from the waistband of her jeans. She recalled the punching bags in the dining area, and fleetingly wondered if Anna would simply shoot her, or kill her with her bare hands.

Anna emerged from the closet with a hard-sided container and a box of ammunition. She placed the container on the bed and loaded it with the ammunition and a couple of magazines. Then she took her pistol from its holster.

"You can't take a gun on a plane," Elsa said, wringing her hands together.

Anna gave her a sidelong glance. "No kidding? When did they start _that_ shit?" She broke down her pistol and put into the box as well, along its waistband holster. Then she slammed the container shut and locked it, stuffing the key into her jeans pocket. "You _can_ carry a gun on a plane, if it's unloaded and broken down and in an approved case." She patted the container. "I'll have to fill out a butt-ton of paperwork, and then they'll stick it in the cargo hold, where it will be impossible for me to use it to skyjack the plane."

"Thank you for the thoroughly sarcastic and condescending explanation," Elsa said coldly.

"I'm not stupid," Anna snapped.

"I never said you were."

"Right."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Elsa said, anxious to defuse Anna's temper.

Anna put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Fine." She looked Elsa up and down, and Elsa tried not to squirm under her scrutiny. "Are you gonna change clothes, or are you gonna travel in yoga pants?"

"I…um…nothing else fits."

"What?"

Elsa felt her face heat up. Again. "You and I have different…um…" She made a curving motion with both hands. "…builds."

Anna's gaze traveled over her again, and she barked out a laugh. "Yes, we do." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and picked up the gun container. "You ready?"

"I suppose so." Elsa picked up her own pack and followed Anna into the den.

"Did you get in touch with - ?" Anna broke off when the doorbell buzzed.

Elsa started. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No," Anna said curtly.

Elsa was dumbfounded at the quickness of Anna's reaction. In less than thirty seconds, she had the container opened, the pistol reassembled, and a loaded magazine slammed into place. She shoved the pistol into her waistband and stuffed the container into her backpack. Hoisting the pack back onto her shoulder, she moved toward the front door. "Let's see who it is."

Heart in her throat, Elsa followed Anna over to the video monitor by the front door. On the screen, they saw a man in a familiar brown uniform standing on the front porch of the building, a couple of boxes in his arms. As they watched, he pressed the doorbell again.

"It's just the delivery man," Elsa said, letting out a sigh of relief.

Anna shook her head. She pressed a button on the monitor, which must have moved the camera, because the view changed, panning along the street in front of the house. Elsa frowned. Something wasn't right…

"Where's his truck?" she asked, her fear roaring back.

"Good question. And that's not the guy who's normally on this route."

"Can we get out the back?"

"I'm sure it's covered."

"But there's only one guy."

"No, he's the only one we can see."

The doorbell buzzed again. Anna pressed the intercom button and the man identified himself, saying he had a package for her.

"Can you just drop it on the porch?" Anna asked.

"You have to sign for it, ma'am."

"Okay. Give me a couple of minutes, I just got out of the shower."

Anna grabbed Elsa's arm and propelled her out into the hallway, locking her apartment door behind her. There was a door across from Anna's apartment, with no number on it. In seconds Anna had that door open and shoved Elsa through it. Then she pulled out her phone and punched in a number.

"Hey Olaf."

"…You see him too?"

"…No, he's not. I don't think he's a delivery guy at all."

"…Listen, Olaf, I need you to do something for me. Call the cops and tell them someone is breaking into my apartment, okay? Then when I call you again, I want you to let that guy in. When he gets to the top of the stairs, I want you to let Marshmallow out, okay?"

"…Yeah, I know what Marshmallow will do. That's why I want you to let him out."

"…Yes. Stay in your apartment and lock the door, you understand me? Don't come out. I'll call you later. Bye."

Anna hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket. "Let's go."

She led Elsa swiftly through the darkened apartment, into what looked like a back bedroom. She opened another door and motioned Elsa inside. Elsa stepped in and bumped right into a wall. Anna joined her and closed the door, leaving them in pitch-blackness. The room was tiny; Elsa was mashed against the wall, with Anna pressed tightly against her.

"There's a ladder here." The whisper was right in her ear, making her jump. Anna took her hand and guided it until Elsa felt the wooden rungs beneath her fingers. Anna kept whispering, "Start climbing. Take it slow and careful. I'll be right behind you."

Elsa started climbing. In the tight space, she felt claustrophobic, and between her fear and the loss of her bearings in the absolute darkness, she was getting a bit queasy. Good thing she hadn't eaten much breakfast.

She moved her hands and feet slowly at first, then faster as she gained some confidence. Then her foot missed a step and she slipped, clipping her chin on one of the rungs. She bit off a painful squeak as one of Anna's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her up. The slim girl was surprisingly strong.

"You okay?" Anna's voice came in her ear.

"Yes," Elsa managed. She steadied herself, ignoring the pain in her chin and the jolt in her belly, and kept climbing, slower this time, until her head bumped the ceiling.

Anna moved up onto the same rung with her, with her legs straddling Elsa's. She pressed against Elsa's back with increasing force. Elsa wasn't sure what the other woman was trying to do, and it was becoming harder to breathe with her chest squashed up against the ladder. For a brief panicked moment, she was sure Anna had brought her in here to kill her. Then a shaft of light hit her from above and the pressure against her back was gone.

She heard Anna's voice come from above her. "Let him in, Olaf." Then her face appeared in the trap door above Elsa. "Come on," she beckoned.

Elsa climbed into a space that she realized must be the attic of the apartment house. Wide wooden rafters with thick pink insulation between them ran the length of the long space. Elsa followed Anna, who hopped from rafter to rafter until she reached the end of the building. Then Anna forced open what looked like a round vent cover and shimmied through it.

Elsa followed, her eyes widening as she realized that the vent hole led out to a tiny railing. Anna balanced precariously on the railing and boosted herself onto the pitched roof. "Are you crazy?!" Elsa hissed.

"It's less crazy than staying here to get killed," Anna retorted. "Here." She extended her hand.

Elsa ignored it and climbed out onto the railing. She shot a quick glance at the cobblestones four stories below. Then she placed her hands up on the roof and with a little hop, clambered up beside Anna. "Now what?"

"Follow me."

Anna made her way toward the edge of the roof. When she got within a few feet, she took a couple of quick strides and launched herself onto the roof of the neighboring house.

 _Oh my God, she really_ is _crazy_. Elsa took a closer look at the gap between the houses. With the overhang of the eaves, the roofs were only about three or four feet apart. Still…

"Come _on_!" Anna growled. "We need to get moving!"

The sudden eruption of Marshmallow's barking spurred Elsa on. She took a big step and leaped across the gap, landing on the edge of the other roof. She teetered for a moment on the steep slope, then threw herself forward onto the slate shingles. She and Anna scrambled over the peak of the roof and down the other side. Marshmallow's barking deteriorated into vicious snarling. A man's sharp cry of pain reached their ears, and then they heard shouts from the street.

"Marshmallow is buying us time," Anna said. "Hopefully Olaf already called the cops."

"Where do we go from here?" Elsa asked.

"Two more blocks over."

They hopped several more gaps and then down onto the flat roof of an auto repair shop. They scrambled down a maintenance ladder to the sidewalk, and ran through a back alley out onto a residential street lined with cars. There was a park in the middle of the block, and Elsa heard the repetitive _thwop_ of a tennis ball being hit. She could make out the tennis court between the trees of the park.

Anna looked up and down the street at the line of cars along the curb. Then she trotted into the park area and picked up a tennis ball, one of a dozen accumulated remnants of errant shots. Elsa eyed her curiously as she pulled a multitool from her backpack and started working a hole in the ball.

"What are you doing?"

"Walk up the sidewalk and keep a lookout for me."

"Why?"

"Please, Elsa, just do it."

Elsa headed up the sidewalk, Anna paralleling her on the other side of the parked cars. Finally Anna stopped beside an older, but well-kept sedan.

"Anybody watching us?" she asked.

Elsa took a quick look around and shook her head.

Anna put the tennis ball up against the lock on the driver-side door, the hole over the lock itself. Then she rammed the heel of her hand into the tennis ball. Elsa's eyes widened in amazement as the locks on all four doors popped open.

"Whoa, how did you do that?!"

Anna jerked open the driver's door and got in. Elsa got in as well. Anna stuck her head under the steering column, her hands feeling around.

"You can't really hot-wire these cars, the technology - " Elsa snapped her mouth shut when the engine roared to life.

Anna sat up, put the car in gear, and pulled away from the curb. She looked at Elsa, blue-green eyes dancing. "You were saying…?"

Elsa huffed. "Okay, so how did you get the locks open with a tennis ball?"

Anna gave her a grin that could be only be described as _shit-eating_. "I told you, I know a few tricks."

Elsa rolled her eyes. _And she's back under my skin_.

* * *

Anna waited in the car, now parked across the street from the Old City branch of the Arendelle National Bank. Her eyes darted around the area, constantly scanning for anyone who might be taking unusual interest in her or Elsa, who had just disappeared through the front door of the bank.

Whoever was chasing Elsa had located them quickly, disturbingly so. Too fast for it to be the NPs, who would have to get a warrant. And the NPs wouldn't show up disguised as UPS delivery guys; they would flash their badges everywhere and come in with firepower and overwhelming force if they felt threatened. No, the people at her apartment were not cops. They had to be with whoever tried to kill Elsa last night.

The adrenaline rush from their narrow escape was gone, and Anna shivered in the driver's seat. If last night hadn't been enough to convince her that Elsa was in deep shit, she was fucking well convinced now. And now Anna was up to her neck in it with her. _Fuckfuckfuck_ …

Anna put the sedan into gear and pulled away from the bank. Maybe she could still salvage what was left of her life if she could get away from Elsa. She could still go to the NPs, explain everything that had happened, and they could get Elsa into protective custody. She could turn Elsa in, and maybe they would drop the thing with the cabin.

 _Like hell they will_. There was a dead agent involved, and that would alone ensure that the NPs gave Anna the flashlight-and-rubber-glove treatment for quite a long time. _Oh, and now we can throw a stolen car into the stew as well_.

As she drove away from the bank, an image of Elsa's frightened blue eyes rose in her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. She would be arrested, more likely even killed, if Anna left her now. She may have thought that she had planned for a clean escape, but she clearly had no idea what she was doing. If Anna abandoned her, it was basically the same as pulling the trigger herself.

Anna found herself circling the block and easing back into the parking space she'd just left.

 _Why? Why am I doing this? What is it about this woman that keeps pulling me back? I don't owe her anything!_

Another thought formed before she could stop it: _Because it's your chance to do the right thing, for once in your life._

 _And there's just something about her…_

To top it off, she was scared about Marshmallow. Was he back with Olaf? What had happened after they fled? Was Olaf all right? He wasn't exactly equipped to deal with those kinds of situations. How could she have dragged him into this? Had her thoughtlessness gotten him hurt?

 _Do the right thing. Yeah, that's going really well_. Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.

The car's passenger door opened. Anna swiped quickly at her cheeks as Elsa slid into the seat next to her. "Did you get everything you need?" she asked around the lump in her throat, not looking at Elsa.

"Yes," Elsa replied. A pause. Then, "Are you all right?"

 _No_. "Yeah," Anna said, her voice still thick. She cleared her throat. "As dumb as it sounds right now, I – I'm really worried about Marshmallow."

"That doesn't sound dumb," Elsa said softly.

"It's just…he's always been…it's just been us, for a while."

"I don't think they would've done anything to him, not with all those people around."

"I'd like to think so. But Elsa, if those men would kill a person, do you think a dog stands a chance?"

Silence from the other seat. Then, in barely a whisper, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to do that for me."

Still not looking at her, Anna wiped her sleeve across her nose and said, "Yeah, well, it's done, and I think we have bigger things to worry about right now, don't we?"

She sensed, rather than saw, Elsa's answering nod.

"I guess the DVR wasn't damaged. Somebody must've ID'd me from the video. Still, that was really fast…like, scary fast."

Elsa let out a mirthless chuckle. "If _you're_ scared, at what level of terrified should _I_ be operating?"

Anna finally looked at her. "It would help if I knew everything that's going on. Then maybe I can be a little better prepared."

Elsa gazed back at her for a moment, hesitant and wary.

Anna said, "Think of it as a kind of crazy trust exercise."

Dropping her eyes, Elsa said, "When we get to the mountains. We'll talk about it when we get to the mountains."

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, I know Mythbusters debunked the thing about opening car locks with a tennis ball, but it just sounded too cool not to use. And it's the kind of thing I could totally see Anna doing. 8D


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Frozen_

 _Warning: M for sexual content. NSFW_

* * *

Captain Chifu sat down behind Kristoff's desk. Despite Kristoff towering over him, he still managed to seem like he was sneering down his nose. "Sit, Inspector," he ordered, waving toward the chair that Kai had just vacated.

Kristoff felt a wave of intense dislike. Chifu was the liaison between the Anti-Corruption Division and NP headquarters. While he was not technically in Kristoff's chain of command, his rank and position allowed him to pass judgment and make demands of Kristoff and the other agents, despite the fact that he had no investigative responsibilities himself. He was a bureaucrat who had advanced by following the rules, taking no risks, and above all, making sure his own ass was always covered. Kristoff slowly lowered himself onto the worn vinyl.

"I've spoken to Lieutenant Sinclair," Chifu said, opening a notebook and poising his pen over it, "but I want to hear what you have to say about it."

No _I'm sorry about Persie Norberg_ or _How are you and your team doing?_ Kristoff eyed Chifu's loose tie, longing to tighten it around his skinny neck until his eyes bugged out. Instead he collected the thoughts buzzing around in his fatigued brain and relayed his version of the events at the cabin.

When he finished, the only sound in the office was the pen scratching against the notepad. Finally Chifu looked up, tapping his pen against the notebook. "Obviously the targets know you're onto them."

"It seems so, yeah."

"How far along is your investigation? Not far, if I recall correctly, which of course I do."

"It's not anywhere close to what we would need to go to the PA for an indictment, if that's what you're talking about."

"So…" Chifu twisted his scraggly mustache between a forefinger and thumb and regarded Kristoff with disdain, "one of your agents is dead and your only witness has disappeared. Interesting."

Kristoff stiffened at his tone. "Is there something you want to tell me, sir?"

Chifu sniffed. "Quite frankly, Inspector, there are a number of concerns. I know that Sinclair has given you quite a lot of leeway in this case. The use of the safe house, the video recording system. It was all approved through the proper channels, but your handling of this case has hardly been by the book."

"But - "

"You are too inexperienced to have been put in charge of a case like this, even if you did manage to gain Kjarensen's confidence. And how useful was her information anyway? I think it's likely that her trust in you is little more than misplaced desire."

 _What the fuck?_ "You think Elsa did all this because she has a _crush_ on me?"

Chifu's mustache twitched. "She's a young woman, and women are not particularly noted for their sound judgment."

 _How did this asswipe survive a conversation with Sinclair?_ "Elsa doesn't do things that aren't clearly and carefully thought out, sir."

Chifu regarded him like a specimen under a microscope. "Perhaps that's your lack of experience showing."

Kristoff bristled, but let that pass. "So what do you want me to do? Drop it? This is a huge case. The implications could run all the way to the Castle!"

"Even if she is credible, what do you have without Kjarensen? What proof?"

"It's there, sir," Kristoff insisted.

"Indeed? What names has she given you besides Erikksen's?"

Kristoff deflated a bit. Chifu was right – Elsa had not given them anything. She was too savvy for that. She was saving the good stuff until she had a deal. "Nothing we can use. Yet."

"But we'll get it," he added hurriedly. "She's told us a lot about Erikssen's operation. These people work for him while in office, and then when they retire or quit, he arranges do-nothing jobs for them with huge salaries and lots of benefits. Almost like a retirement program. No money changes hands while they're in office. It's simple. It's amazing. There's no way Elsa could've made up the kind of detail she's given us."

"But can you prove it?"

"We're doing everything we can, sir. I wanted Elsa to wear a wire for us, but she wasn't ready for that yet, and I didn't want to push her. She's not the kind of person who can be rushed. I didn't want to lose her confidence. Then we'd have nothing."

Chifu glanced over his notes and then gave Kristoff an appraising stare. "So, you have some nameless but very powerful people, who may or may not have lucrative plans for the future, or have nice post-government jobs waiting for them when they decide public service is no longer for them. The question is, so what? They lunch, they take meetings, they network, they call in favors and scratch each other's backs. It happens, here and in every other government in the world."

"It's a lot more than that!"

"Can you _prove_ it? Can you trace the illegal activity? Can you show how any legislation was manipulated, beyond the normal horse-trading that goes on in the Nasjonsting?"

"Um…not exactly."

"I thought not."

Kristoff ground his teeth. It was like trying to prove a negative. How do you prove something didn't happen? Erikksen's crooked councilors probably used tactics that were legitimate parts of everyday business in the Nasjonsting. It was the _why_ , the motivation behind the maneuvering, that was illegal, not the _how_. Like a fighter throwing a match because he'd been paid off.

"These unknown companies that are going to supposedly employ these corrupt councilors? Does Erikksen have stakes in any of them? Does he own the controlling interest? Is he a board member or a stockholder? Is he a director? Does he have ongoing business with them? Did he put up the money?"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"No, Inspector, these are the questions that you are going to get from defense attorneys. These people will have the best ones money can buy." Chifu's beady black eyes bored into him. "And you'd do well to have answers for them."

Kristoff shifted in his chair and looked at the floor. "So far, we haven't found anything that directly links Erikksen to any of it."

"That's what I thought. So what, exactly, are you basing your conclusions on?"

Kristoff crossed his arms over his chest. His hand brushed against the pistol in his shoulder holster. For a brief second, he had to fight the urge to draw it and shoot Chifu, to silence his nasally voice, if nothing else.

"Oh, don't tell me, let me guess," Chifu went on. "The word of your missing woman, Elsa Kjarensen."

"She's not 'my woman,' she's a witness," Kristoff ground out. "And we'll find her."

"And if you don't?"

"Then we'll get the evidence another way."

"How, pray tell? Can you identify the corrupt councilors without her?"

Kristoff wanted to say yes in the worst way, but he couldn't. Erikksen had been part of the political landscape for years. He probably knew, lunched and had dealings with every bureaucrat and politician in Arendelle City. It would be impossible to root out the people he'd been bribing without Elsa's help.

"We'll find a way," he said. "The evidence is there, we just have to keep digging."

Chifu was scribbling in his notebook again. "Your time for digging is limited, Inspector," he said, pointing his pen at Kristoff. "You're not investigating a village school council. With targets of this magnitude, you must tread very lightly, and even then, it will be impossible to keep it completely secret. And now throw in the complication of a homicide investigation."

"You think there will be leaks," Kristoff said. He wondered if the captain suspected that there had already been leaks.

"I _know_ there will be leaks," Chifu said. "It is inevitable in any investigation targeting such important people. You must be sure of your case before the leaks occur. You cannot investigate public officials based on rumors and innuendos."

Kristoff curled his fingers into his already-rumpled slacks. "What do you suggest I do, Captain?"

"Find Kjarensen. And do it quickly. VCID is handling Agent Norberg's homicide. They will keep you informed. Since the cases are related, I suggest you cooperate with them."

"I can't tell them anything about my case," Kristoff protested.

"You don't have to. Just help them clear Norberg's murder. And find Kjarensen."

"And if we can't? What happens to my investigation?"

"I can't say at this time. The tea leaves are hard to read right now."

 _In other words, success means you get credit. Failure means I spend my career investigating parking meter fraud._

Chifu closed his notebook and stood. He circled the desk and stood over Kristoff. "We're handling the media from Headquarters. It goes without saying that you are not to speak to the press."

Kristoff saw red. He stood up slowly, locking eyes with the miserable pissant as he brought himself to his full height, looming over the scrawny captain. "Do you really think I would talk to _reporters_ about this?" he growled.

Chifu's eyes widened as he stared up at Kristoff. He backed off a few steps and clasped his notebook against his chest. "See that you don't," he said, and Kristoff could hear a quaver in his voice. "We already have inquiries. For now, the story is that an agent was killed during an undercover operation. No other details, including his name. But that won't last long. The dam will eventually burst, and I'm sure you don't want to get wet."

Chifu scurried out of the office before Kristoff could react.

 _Yeah, run, you scraggy little rat._ He wondered, not for the first time, how the NPs managed to function at all with sneaky little shits like Chifu working there.

 _God, I hate people._

* * *

Hans Westergard ended the call and tossed the phone onto his desk. Disturbed, he paced his study like a restless animal. He considered himself a patient man, but this whole Kjarensen situation was pushing his limits. It should have been resolved by now, and not keep dragging out like some third-rate action movie.

His men had gotten to the apartment quickly enough, but found it empty. Someone had become suspicious of their presence and called the police. And to top it all off, one of his men had been attacked by the huge white dog, his arm severely mauled. But they'd found the phone message from Erikksen, playing it back for Hans over the phone before deleting it.

"So you hired a private detective, did you, Erikkssen?" Hans muttered. "Not a smart move. Not at all. You'll pay for that. And so will she."

The police that responded to the call had backed down quickly in the face of the official-looking IDs that his men had flashed. Hans congratulated himself for his foresight in obtaining the badges. They were worth every skilling he'd spent for them. The local precinct officers had been sent away with instructions to never discuss what they had seen. But still, it was one more factor he had to bear in mind. One more little piece that wasn't quite under control.

He wandered over to the French windows. SI Shipping and Trading maintained the waterfront home for the managing agent of Westergard Export Brokers. It was spacious and elegant, but Hans had his eye on a much more spectacular residence. He pulled aside the drapes and gazed across the fjord at Arendelle Castle. The gray overcast of the early morning was starting to dissipate, and it looked as though it might turn out to be a spectacular fall day. Hans shivered a little; the weather here was not entirely to his liking. Arendelle was cooler and wetter than his native home in the Southern Isles, and he found the winters long and brutal. But it was a beautiful country, with its postcard-perfect fjord, towering snowcapped mountains, and towns and cities that seemed to have been created straight from travel brochures.

A country worthy of a ruler like Hans.

He was so close he could taste it.

But the last twenty-four hours had seen one fuck-up after another. Fritz Schlager had killed a National Police agent, but the real target had escaped. And Schlager had gotten himself shot, taking a bullet to his right arm that had left the limb paralyzed from the elbow down. Nerve damage, most likely.

 _Weselton should have him put down_. Not only had Tweedledum botched the job – an unforgivable sin in Hans' eyes – but he was also now a liability. A shooter who could no longer shoot, a hired hand with a crippled arm. Useless. Such a man couldn't simply be fired. He knew too much.

Trying to stem his rising anger, Hans turned his thoughts to other concerns. The private investigator that Erikksen had employed was most likely the woman that Tweedledum had seen at the cabin. The description certainly matched. Despite his anger, Hans had to laugh at the serendipity of Anna Aarndahl being hired to follow Kjarensen.

He'd ordered a dig into Aarndahl's background, but doubted it would uncover anything he didn't already know. An enticing woman, Anna. Not a beauty on par with, say, Elsa Kjarensen, but she was pretty, with a lively, if somewhat childish charm. Too bad things had ended the way they had. But she had become too clinging, too demanding, too quickly.

 _Seriously, who wants to move in together a few weeks after you meet?_

And she'd hardly make a suitable queen.

Hans knew little of Anna's investigative pursuits, but honestly he hadn't been that interested in her job anyway. It seemed she was cleverer than he gave her credit for. She had given his men the slip, and presumably she had helped Kjarensen escape from the cabin. It was possible that she was the one who shot Tweedledum. Hans knew that Anna belonged to a shooting club and often went about armed, but he had laughed that off as the affectation of a woman trying to do a man's job. Or perhaps that of an abandoned child, trying to appear tough.

Apparently Anna had not reported in to Erikksen about the previous night's events, which was probably why Erikksen had left the message. So Erikksen still did not have the entire story of what happened at the cabin. It was probably best to keep it that way.

So Anna was on the run with Kjarensen. The question was, how would they run? Trains? Planes? Automobiles? Some combination thereof? He already had men covering the airport and train stations. But the NPs would be covering those places as well. And the two women could easily rent a car and drive to a train or bus station in another city, or just drive on over the border into Norway. Hans' influence didn't extend to the border police – yet.

A chase looked problematic at best. There were too many variables, and Hans' available manpower, while mostly reliable, wasn't unlimited. These men weren't officially employees of Westergard Export Brokers. He had so far been able to adjust his firm's books enough to cover the funneling of money to his covert payroll, but too many tweaks to the general ledger would draw the attention of at least two, if not more, of his older brothers. Any one of them would be delighted to inform the Old Man that Hans was cooking the books over in Arendelle.

It would be the most attention his brothers had paid him in years.

Brotherly love? _Ha_. In the Westergard clan, it was more like a dozen hawks circling the same prey. Hans was ready to leave that behind. Let his brothers fight over the division and control of SI Shipping and Trading. He had a much bigger quarry in his sights. A conquest truly befitting the Westergard name.

Hans pondered going to Weselton for more resources. The Weasel's pockets were much deeper than his own. But Weselton would want to provide men, not money. Men who would be more focused on reporting on Hans' activities than finding Kjarensen and Anna.

No, the best option would not be to chase the women, but to lure them out, to make them come to him. He would just need the right bait. Kjarensen had no children, no parents, no husband or boyfriend. Anna…well, Anna had several potential weak points. He would just have to give that some more thought. It would be easy to get a discreet message to her when the time was right.

Once Anna and Kjarensen were dealt with, he could remove Erikksen from the picture as well. In the meantime, he would have the man watched carefully, in case he made contact with Kjarensen or Anna again after he returned from running Weselton's errand in Sornland.

Hans wondered if it might be time to shake loose from Weselton. The partnership was going to fall apart anyway. The Weasel was too focused on maintaining his status quo. He wanted a Nasjonsting that he could control, and a king that would do his bidding. Hans would present him with a _fait accompli_. Weselton would accept or be a bystander when the _Traktat av Norge_ went into effect.

Then the Weasel would learn that Hans did no one's bidding but his own.

Hans left the study and returned to his bedroom. One corner of his mouth turned up when he saw his current companion standing in front of the mirror in just her bra and slip, her dark auburn hair spilling down her back. He felt himself stir as he let his gaze wander over her long slender legs. When she pulled her blouse on, he slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Morning," he murmured, nuzzling behind her ear.

"Morning," she said with a little shiver. Their gazes met in the mirror and she gave him a little smile. Her eyes fascinated him – they were an alluring shade of violet, and could flash from innocent to indecent in the space of a heartbeat.

"Leaving already?' He nipped at her earlobe and ran his fingertips over the soft skin of her belly, enjoying the slight quiver of her abs.

"Mmmhmm. I think I'm going to get to see that journal today. The one I was telling you about."

"Really?" Hans rubbed his sideburns against her neck.

"Mmmm….yes. It's not exactly ancient Greek philosophy, but it should be intriguing. It's been kept secret for so long." She started buttoning her blouse.

"You'll have to tell me all about it tonight." His hands followed hers, undoing each button almost as soon as she fastened it.

"Stop that," she said, giving his hands a half-hearted smack. "I'm trying to get ready for work."

He spread her blouse open and cupped her over her bra, feeling her nipples harden under his touch. "I don't think you really want me to stop," he said, grinning into her neck as he fondled her.

"Hans…" Her head fell back against his shoulder as one of his hands snaked under her slip, hiking it up around her hips.

He let out a low chuckle when he felt the damp fabric between her thighs. "Oh, you definitely don't want me to stop." Her hips jerked when he slipped his fingers under her panties and stroked them along her soaked folds.

She moaned. Hans stilled his fingers at her entrance. "Or do you? Want me to stop?"

"She met his eyes in the mirror again, and this time her gaze was hungry. "No."

Hans chuckled again. "That's what I thought." He thrust his fingers into her.

She cried out and pushed back against him. Hans eased her forward until she was supporting herself with her hands on either side of the mirror. Then he untied his robe and pushed the crotch of her panties aside to bury himself in her.

He snaked one arm around her waist to hold her steady as he pumped into her, watching her face in the mirror. Her eyes fell shut and she bucked back against him, moaning. His other hand slid to the apex of her thighs, and she whimpered sharply when his fingers found her clit. Her knees buckled, and he lowered her to the floor, thrusting into her roughly. He smiled as he watched their bodies move together in the mirror, enjoying the increasingly heated cries that echoed through his bedroom.

 _I just can't wait to be King._

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! Your feedback is always appreciated, so let me know what you like, don't like, or just make a general comment. I do respond to reviews._

 _ **Pack** \- you make me blush._


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Wish I did._

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Nestled between the mountains and the sea, Arendelle International Airport had a name that was grander than its size might indicate. The term 'international' referred primarily to the dozens of daily flights between Arendelle and the other countries of the Northern Realms, although a traveler could also fly directly to most major cities on the Continent. The main terminal building mimicked the same _dragestil_ architecture so prevalent in Arendelle's historic buildings, with dramatically pitched roofs and large triangular windows. The control tower was almost an exact replica of the guard towers that stood along the walls of Arendelle Castle.

Most travelers had a love-hate relationship with the airport. On the one hand, the terminal buildings and the shops inside exuded the same beauty and charm that endeared Arendelle to visitors. On the other hand, takeoffs and landings were like amusement park rides gone bad, with sharp banking turns and rapid changes in altitude required to get in and out without taking a swim or crashing into the mountains. Throw in the turbulence that occurred naturally in the area and it made for a combination that could turn even the hardiest of stomachs.

Anna and Elsa left the sedan in the far corner of the long-term lot. Anna had made one stop on the trip from the bank, in a shopping center parking garage where she swapped the plates on their stolen car for those from a car of the same size and color. She knew it wouldn't fool the police for long, but figured it would widen their head start a little bit more.

Anna followed Elsa past the major airlines to the ticket counter belonging to Crocus Airways, a small commuter service that flew to a dozen or so regional airports. There was only one station at the counter, and the queue was fairly long.

"Is the line always that long?" Anna asked.

"Most weekdays, yes. Business travelers," Elsa explained. "It will slow down in a bit."

"Why don't we get something to drink and wait, then? That will give me a chance to scope things out a little," Anna said.

"All right."

They walked back toward the center of the terminal to a small café, where they both ordered hot chocolates and retreated to a table at the back. Anna scanned the area. No one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, but Anna's gaze darted from person to person like a hummingbird between flowers. She had a fairly practiced eye when it came to spotting cops who were trying to be inconspicuous, but cops weren't the only the ones looking for them. Her knees bounced spastically under the table.

"Nervous?" Elsa asked.

"Yeah. It helps, though. Kind of like a heightened alert level." Anna leaned over and slurped whipped cream off the top of her drink. She saw Elsa watching her. "What? You don't like whipped cream?"

"I prefer my chocolate straight up," Elsa said dryly.

"Whipped cream adds a whole new dimension to the sugar rush."

"I doubt you really need it. You're about to vibrate out of your chair as it is."

Anna flushed and stilled her knees. She really _didn't_ need the sugar. The situation had her on edge enough already, and the combination of adrenaline, too much caffeine and too little sleep had her mind pinballing more than normal. Suddenly irritated, she took another slurp of whipped cream and scowled at Elsa.

"You have a whipped cream mustache," Elsa said, amusement coloring her voice. She reached across the table and wiped Anna's face with a napkin.

"Thanks, Mom," Anna mumbled under the napkin.

Elsa looked mortified. She jerked her hand away. "Sorry."

Anna bit back a smart remark. What was it that made her want to needle Elsa constantly?

They sat in silence for a bit, sipping at their drinks. Anna drummed her fingers on the table and watched people come and go from the café, keeping tabs on those who lingered. So far, no one was making her suspicious.

"Do you mind?" Elsa broke into her observations. She indicated Anna's tapping fingers. "That's a bit annoying."

Anna put her hands in her lap. "Sorry."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How long had you been following me?"

"Ten days," Anna replied, "during which you worked late seven times, went out to dinner once – by yourself – and ordered takeout three times. You also made four trips to the cabin, including last night." She grinned when Elsa's mouth dropped open.

"Hard to believe it was just last night," Elsa murmured finally. "You're very thorough."

"I like to think so, yeah."

"Have you reported to your client at all?"

"Once, three days ago. I usually do a weekly report, unless something really big happens." Anna let out a little laugh. "I would've done one last night if I'd had a chance. That might've qualified as the big daddy of reports, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Elsa said. "So if you don't know your client, how do you make your reports?"

Elsa was giving her an appraising look, and Anna wondered for a moment where this sudden curiosity about her work was coming from. _Well, I guess it's natural to be curious about someone who wants you followed, especially if they might also want you dead_.

"I upload them to an online storage account. I also have a phone number where I can leave verbal reports."

"Did you check them out before you filed your report?"

"Nah, why should I give a fuck about that?" Anna's mouth ran away from her. "Just take the money and screw everything else, right?"

"Must you always be snarky? I didn't mean it that way and you know it." Elsa's voice and expression were so icy that Anna swore that the air around her actually got chillier. She shivered a little.

"Sorry," Anna said, dropping her eyes to the table. _Jesus, what is wrong with me?_ "I couldn't really check out the online storage. I don't have the skills for that. I mean, I know people who do, but they don't work for free and on the surface, it seemed like a pretty basic tail-and-report job. Boy, was I wrong, huh?"

Anna shook her head and went on, "I did run a reverse lookup on the number, every database that I can legally access. Nothing. It's a cell phone, but it didn't even have that many tower hits. I called the number and got a computer voice that said for A. Aarndahl to leave any information in the voice mail. It's probably a burner, set up just for me to report to."

"Oh."

"I take my job seriously, Elsa, it pays my bills and keeps me straight, for the most part. I think I'm pretty good at it. Initially, your case just didn't seem like that big a deal. I thought you were fucking the big blond guy, which I totally wouldn't blame you for, by the way, he's hot, he's got that kind of disheveled thing going for him, I never would have pegged him as an NP - "

"Anna."

"Sorry. Anyway, I figured my client was a jealous husband. And believe me, once I got into the cabin, I was really curious about what the hell you were up to, which I still don't really know, but it I thought it was pretty straightforward at first. Apparently I was wrong."

"I see." Elsa stirred her drink. "What did the file you got about me say? The one the client sent you?"

"You're a consultant with Erikksen Associates, a junior partner with Agdar Erikksen. An expert on sustainable design, whatever that means. You're twenty-four years old, and you joined Erikksen Associates when you were nineteen, right out of Arendelle University. You have two master's degrees, in architecture and engineering, and since you were nineteen when you got them, you're probably a genius. Kind of like Olaf, but with better social skills."

Elsa let out a delicate snort and sipped her hot chocolate. "Did the file say anything about our clients?"

"No. Is that important?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. Did it say anything about Agdar Erikksen?"

"No, not really. But I checked him out."

"What did you find out?"

"He's an interesting guy. Grew up in Arendelle Castle, was supposedly good friends with the late Prince Kristen. He's kind of a legend among the staffers in the Nasjonsting. Been around for years. Knows everybody and everything worth knowing. He's made a ton of money. If you're a partner with him, I'm guessing you have too."

"I've done well. Anything else?"

Anna shrugged. "Those are the high points. But you know all this. Why are you asking? Is there something about Erikksen?"

Elsa just stared off into space, a wistful expression on her face. "Agdar Erikksen is an extraordinary man," she said finally, her voice soft.

 _Is she in love with him?_ Anna wondered why that thought bothered her. "So how did you become a consultant?"

Elsa smiled, the first genuine smile Anna had seen from her. It lit up her whole face. Anna just stared, again struck by how beautiful she was. _Whoa_.

"Luck?" Elsa said. "I met Agdar at a lecture right before I graduated. I guess he saw something in me, because he offered me a job that evening. He took me in, showed me the ropes. I owe him a lot."

"Sounds like you're pretty close."

"Yes, we were."

Anna picked up on the 'were.' Past tense. Had Elsa and Erikksen had a falling out? Before she could pursue that thought, Elsa asked, "How about you? How did you get into the private detective business?"

"I slid into it sideways, honestly," Anna said. "A lawyer who's a friend of a friend asked me to follow someone for him and take pictures. It turned out to be a cheating husband, and the lawyer got a huge settlement for the wife. I found that I had a knack for that kind of thing. The Army taught me communications and electronics, and I picked up a lot of other, um, _skills_ during my misspent youth."

"Your misspent youth?"

Anna tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was kind of a wild kid," she admitted. "Got into all kinds of trouble, in school and out of it. One of the sisters used to tell me, "'Anna dear, if you would only live up to our Christian faith, and not down to your devilish impulses.'"

She laughed. "I should have listened to her. But I didn't. Spent some time in juvie. Old Judge Haller got tired of seeing me. By the third – maybe fourth? - time I showed up in his courtroom, he'd had it. He gave me a choice between doing my compulsory in the Army, or going to grown-up jail. I chose the Army."

"My God," Elsa said. Anna stifled a giggle at her appalled expression. Elsa had _good girl_ written all over her. She'd probably never been in trouble in her life. At least until now. "What did you do to warrant that?"

"Crashed some alderman's new Ferrari during a joyride."

"That was _you_? You're the one who wrecked Alderman Skarstein's sports car?"

Anna nodded sheepishly.

"I heard about that! It was all over the news at the time. I remember them saying that the thief was a juvenile, and that's why there was no name released. But that was years ago. You couldn't have been more than what, fifteen?"

"Sixteen."

"How could you get sent to the Army at sixteen?"

"My aunt and uncle were more than happy to sign the papers. They were too busy with my cousin to want to deal with me anymore."

"Your aunt and uncle? What about your parents?"

"They were killed in a car accident when I was twelve."

"Oh." Elsa looked down for a second, then met Anna's eyes. "I'm sorry. That sounds like it was…difficult."

Anna started to reply, but froze when two men in dark suits approached the café. "Elsa," she said softly, "I want you to lean down and rummage through your purse and backpack like you're looking for something. Stay there until I tell you to come up."

Elsa looked alarmed, but ducked her head under the table and opened her purse. Anna sipped her drink and watched the men over the rim of her cup. They certainly dressed like NP agents, but lacked the swagger she so often saw in police officers. They didn't come into the café, and she studied them as they walked past. Their suits were well tailored. She didn't see any of the telltale lumps that would indicate they were carrying, nor did their torsos show the slight puffiness that came from wearing a protective vest. Probably just businessmen.

She gave Elsa the all-clear, and Elsa sat back up, looking around nervously.

"Sorry," Anna said. "False alarm. I thought I saw the NPs."

"Can you always spot them?"

"Most of the time, but not always. Cops tend to have a certain look about them."

Elsa chewed her lower lip, then said, "The rush at the ticket counter is probably passed by now."

"Okay," Anna said, reaching for her backpack.

"Wait," Elsa said. She shifted in her chair, clasping and unclasping her hands. "I've been thinking about this. Since they came to your apartment, they might be looking for two women traveling together. Why don't I go buy the tickets, and I'll meet you at the security check?"

Anna narrowed her eyes. "Won't I need to check in?"

"If I buy the tickets on the same credit card, I can get both boarding passes. You'll just need your ID to go through security. Which reminds me, are you traveling under your own name, or…?"

Anna looked at her for a moment, uneasy. It wasn't really a _bad_ idea, it was just…. _Trust, Anna. You asked for it from her._

"Anne Thorsdatter."

"Really?" Elsa couldn't hide a smile.

"Yep," Anna said with a grin. "She has a driver's permit and everything."

"I have to admit, it kind of fits."

"How about you? What's your traveling name?"

"Ingrid Larsen."

"Why that?"

"Do you know how many Ingrid Larsens there are in Arendelle? And I had a great aunt named Ingrid, of whom I was quite fond."

Anna chuckled. "Okay, _Ingrid_. I'll meet you at security."

Elsa picked up her purse and backpack, and with a quick look around, headed back down the terminal toward the Crocus Airways ticket counter. Anna watched her pale blonde braid bounce gently against her back as she walked, and her pulse quickened a bit as her eyes dropped to Elsa's swaying hips, covered by those snug black yoga pants.

 _Is the heat on in here?_

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her bangs.

 _Get a grip, Aarndahl._

 _I'd like to._

 _Jesus, I need to derail this thought train._

Anna wasn't the only one looking. She swore she could hear necks crack as Elsa made her way down the concourse, with both men and women casting appreciative glances in her direction. It seemed as though every person in the airport was watching Elsa -

 _I'm an idiot_.

Anna wanted to kick herself. Even in the casual clothes, Elsa stood out. Her looks turned heads; people noticed her. Which was not great for someone who was being hunted. Anna should've thought about it earlier, figured out a way to make Elsa less conspicuous.

She grabbed her backpack and hustled down the concourse after Elsa. She thought she remembered seeing a gift shop – maybe they would have a hat or scarf that Elsa could use to hide that distinctive hair. And maybe a sweater as well, a big one, one that would be long enough to cover that glorious –

 _God, I am in so much trouble…_

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to wannasalad, Gcohen, Pendrag0n, the Reckless Wolf and Dan-O for the kind reviews. Hope everyone is still enjoying this!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney._

* * *

Kristoff was on the phone and trying to organize his case files at the same time when a rap came at his office door. Kai stuck his head in and mouthed, "Busy?"

Kristoff shook his head and waved him in. "Yeah. Uh-huh," he grunted into the phone as he added one file to a pile on the corner of his desk and tossed another into a basket on top of the file cabinet. Kai sat down in the cracked vinyl armchair, holding yet another cup of coffee, and waited patiently.

"Yeah, okay. Keep me posted." Kristoff hung up the phone and looked at Kai. It looked like he had found a chance to shower and change – what was left of his red hair was still damp. The dampness seemed to accentuate the gray that shot through it. Kristoff sometimes forgot that Kai was in his fifties. He was just always there, putting in the hours, working the tough cases, serving as the bedrock of the Anti-Corruption Division.

"How did it go with Chifu?" Kai asked.

Kristoff wiped his hand across his face and groaned.

"That well, huh?"

"It could've been worse. We're still in business, at least for now."

"Well, that's something, anyway." Kai rolled his thick shoulders and neck. "I worked the scene with the VCID people last night. My back feels like a herd of reindeer stampeded over it. I think I may be getting too old for this."

"You can't retire. This place would fall apart without you."

"I hardly think so," Kai said, but he looked pleased at the comment. He sat back in his chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket to let his belly push through. He sipped his coffee and seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

Kristoff waited patiently. Kai did everything at his own pace. He would not be rushed, or pressured into making speculations or drawing conclusions before he was ready to do so. He hadn't come here just to chat. Kristoff had learned that almost everything the man did had a specific purpose. He was a true veteran of the National Police bureaucracy, and he had tried to coach Kristoff in its ways. Although Kristoff relied heavily on him for his knowledge and experience, he could never really ignore the fact that although he was technically Kai's supervisor, he was less than half Kai's age. If that fact bothered Kai, he never let it show.

"I just talked to Aggie Norberg," Kai said finally. "Told her that I would be out to see her as soon as I get a chance. She really appreciated you stopping by last night, Kristoff. She said you were a comfort, and broke the news as gently as possible."

"She took it about as well as anyone could, I guess."

"She also said that the director-general and Sinclair came by as well. That was gracious of them. Persie and I were friends for a long time." Kai's mouth tightened into a hard line. Kristoff had no doubt that if Kai caught up with Persie's killer before VCID, he might well dole out his own justice.

"I know. I'm sorry, Kai, I hadn't really thought about how hard this has gotta be for you."

"You have enough on your mind. Don't worry about me." Kai took a drink of coffee, then said, "We were right about where the shot came from. VCID found brass in the tree line, seven-point-six-two, and the location matches the rough trajectory. We also found blood, a decent amount of it."

"What?"

"It looks like the shooter was hit, too. We followed the trail, but lost it after about two hundred feet or so."

Kristoff processed that. "Life-threatening?"

"It was dark, so it's hard to say. FU is walking the yard, looking for the slug that killed Persie. VCID still has a team searching the woods and canvassing the area."

"If they find a body, will it complicate things or simplify them?"

"Probably both. We'll have to see."

"Blood sample?"

"The lab is running it. It may not turn up anything, but it will at least confirm whether or not it's human."

"VCID may end up finding a deer carcass. It _is_ hunting season," Kristoff pointed out.

"True," Kai acknowledged. "But I don't think so. No evidence, just my gut feel."

"If the shooter was hit, that may make him easier find," Kristoff said.

"Only if he was stupid enough to go to a hospital. They have to report gunshot wounds. And it may have been a flesh wound that bled heavily. If he bandaged it up and got back to the city, he's probably long gone."

"Or dead," Kristoff said morosely. "Assuming Elsa was the target, his employer can't be too happy that he missed."

"Also true." Kai paused for a moment, a troubled look on his face, then said, "Kristoff, Persie didn't fire his weapon."

Kristoff had been considering that as well. "Which means that if the blood is confirmed as human, we have a _fourth_ person at the cabin. It was a fucking party out there last night."

"And the fourth person shot the shooter."

Kristoff shook his head. "That's crazy. I bet there haven't been four people at that cabin at the same time in thirty years."

Kai nodded. "Based on the evidence we have right now, that seems to be the case, though."

"Kai, could this fourth party been the one who shot Persie, rather than the person who was wounded?"

"Possibly. Doubtful, though. The caliber of the casings we found near the blood suggests that person was the shooter. FU is still searching the woods, so if there was a shootout between the two unknown parties, then they may find another set of ejected brass."

Kristoff scratched his chin, wincing at the scrape of his stubble. He thought he might kill for a shower and a shave right then. "The fourth person may have been the one in the cabin, the one who triggered the cameras. Maybe the woman whose boots were left by the porch."

"Without the video, we won't know for sure."

"Where did Fucked find the DVR?"

"In the woods, right inside the tree line."

Kristoff leaned back in his chair. "So…let me run through this. We have the shooter in the woods, and the fourth person, possibly a woman, in the cabin. She somehow discovers the cameras and the DVR, and knowing she's on the video, decides to take the DVR. She carries it into the woods, and exchanges shots with the third person. He hits the DVR, but she hits him. Then maybe he runs, and she grabs Elsa and takes off in Persie's car."

Kai shook his head. "It sounds insane. Yet I can't think of any other scenario that fits the information we have so far."

"We really need the video."

"Even if Tech can recover the video, it still doesn't tell us _how_ the woman was able to get into the cabin. Locks can be picked, but she had the alarm code, Kristoff."

There it was again, like dog crap on the carpet. Something no one wanted to acknowledge, but stunk too much to ignore. "You think we have a leak."

"It's the simplest explanation. It could be on our end, or it could be at Kjarensen's end."

"We've got people covering her townhouse, and the airport and train stations," Kristoff said. "And her office, though I can't believe she'd go there."

"Me either, although I wonder if that's where the bullet originated."

"Erikksen?"

"I believe that's plausible, even probable."

"I wish we could prove it," Kristoff sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Without the video, we don't have much. We might be able to prove it if we can find Kjarensen. We could still have some leverage with her."

"I'm not too sure about that anymore. Almost getting your head blown off can really make you rethink your priorities. And if Erikksen is onto Elsa, he's probably onto us, too."

"Erikksen may have figured it out on his own," Kai said. "By all accounts, he's a very smooth operator. Maybe Kjarensen inadvertently tipped him and made him suspicious, he had her followed, saw her talking to you and contracted to take her out."

Kristoff picked up the coffee cup that Kai had brought earlier and sipped at the dregs. _Ugh, nasty_. "I'd like to believe that, rather than think that someone here sold us out."

"Agreed. But there are going to be bad apples in just about any law enforcement agency."

Kristoff wondered how such people would slide past the rigorous screening process that the National Police put all of their employees through. Everyone from the director-general down to the lowliest admin assistant had to have a security clearance of some sort, and the background investigation was invasive almost to the point of humiliation. Kristoff still remembered how violated he felt after the polygraph, with his life laid bare in front of a panel of strangers who made his every quirk seem like a perversion of the vilest sort.

And he would have the joy of doing it all again when he reached his fifth anniversary on the job.

OPE, the Office of Professional Ethics, kept close watch on agents for signs of personal or professional issues that could affect their trustworthiness or make them susceptible to outside influence. There were always a few agents under scrutiny. Sometimes they had been caught have extramarital affairs, or using drugs, but most often they were having financial problems of some sort or another. An agent who couldn't pay his bills was vulnerable to exploitation.

Kai was eyeing him, and Kristoff wondered if the veteran agent was suspicious of him. He knew Kai was doing okay financially. His wife had suffered from cancer, but was currently in remission. That sometimes strained their resources, but they'd weathered their crises fine. Kai's house was paid for, his children grown and on their own, his pension locked in. He was in good shape, and could probably enjoy a nice retirement.

Kristoff wished he could say as much. Grandpabbie's Forgetting Disease was getting worse, and Bulda had finally had to quit her job to take care of him. That left Kristoff as the sole provider. Bulda's health wasn't all that great either, and the stress of caring for Grandpabbie didn't help. Most of Kristoff's paycheck went to their medical expenses and there was little left over for extras or emergencies. A major crisis for either of them might push them over the edge.

He considered the way the situation must look. Elsa had called _him_ ; she generally refused to deal with anyone else. He had been the one with her on every trip to the cabin. Every one. Except last night. The very night he had gotten another agent to substitute for him, that agent was killed. It looked bad. It looked very bad. He wondered if Kai was thinking that. Did Kai blame him for Persie's death?

Kristoff was pretty sure that Chifu, the creepy little cockroach, was thinking exactly that.

He shoved those thoughts aside. He couldn't do anything about it right now, and dwelling on 'what-ifs' wouldn't get him anywhere. "That's going to be a whole investigation by itself, so let's focus on we can do with the one we have in front of us."

"Very well. What's our next move?"

"Let's hit all of our possibilities as hard as we can. The priority is finding Elsa. Let's hope she uses a credit card to buy a plane or a train ticket, and then we can pick her up." He leaned on his elbows. "We need to shadow Erikksen, see what he's up to. Who knows, he may lead us to Elsa. We probably at least need to attempt to find the shooter, and see if we can ID whoever was in the cabin. Pull the logs from the alarm system, see how the person got in. Can you liaison with VCID?"

"Certainly."

"We have a lot of trails, we just need to find the one or two that actually lead somewhere." Kristoff scratched the back of his neck. "We're kind of out on a limb, and it's starting to crack."

Kai looked at him sharply. "The conversation with Captain Chifu really didn't go well, did it?"

Kristoff shook his head. "I just don't trust that sneaky little shit."

"Nor should you."

Kristoff looked at him in surprise. Kai rarely spoke poorly of other agents.

Kai sat quietly for a few moments, and then went on, "A number of years ago, I was in charge of a joint human trafficking operation with the Norwegians and the Muscovians. Our goal, at least officially, was to disrupt the transfer of people, mostly women, along our borders on their way to wherever they were being sold. Asia and North America, mostly. Our unofficial goal was to make the Muscovian government look good while we were doing it. Of course, the Muscovian president was – and still is – up to his neck in that business, but we had to pretend that we were all working for the greater good. We were ordered to keep mostly open communications with our counterparts. For those of us on the ground, the operative word was 'mostly' – we were well aware of the rampant corruption, but diplomacy required that the Muscovians share in the credit. After we did most of the work, of course. Two years of investigations and legwork and shaking down snitches, and we had a huge operation planned – had one of the world's biggest traffickers in our sights."

Kai closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But the plans were leaked. Our team walked into an ambush that left two of my agents dead, along with one from Norway. The Muscovians were untouched."

Kristoff stared at him. "I heard about that case when I was at the Politiskolen, in my joint operations class. I never knew you were involved in it."

"Well, I suspect you were barely out of training pants when it happened."

Kristoff had no idea what to say to that.

"Nevertheless, after it happened, the team's Headquarters liaison, a young would-be shooting star, came to see me. He barely even knew which end of his pistol to hold, but he informed me that I needed to trace the leak, and quickly, and if I didn't fix it, I was through."

"Chifu?"

Kai didn't answer that, but plunged on, "There was one condition, however: If it implicated any of our counterparts, I could not blame them."

Finally meeting Kristoff's eyes, Kai said, "It turns out that the leak did come from one of the Muscovian agents. But he was able to get the information because the Headquarters liaison had been careless with sensitive documents. When I confronted him to give him a chance to explain, he denied everything, and he 'discovered' the documents on my desk not long afterward."

"So you took the fall?" Kristoff asked, feeling slightly sick.

"No. The document tracking log had obviously been tampered with, but we could never prove who did it. There was never any blame assigned for the leak, most likely because no one wanted to cause a diplomatic crisis. But this man's carelessness cost three agents their lives, and not only has he denied it, he has never once shown a sliver of remorse."

Kai rose from the chair and tossed his empty coffee cup in the trash. "I'm going to check back in with the VCID team chief. I'll let you know as soon as anything new turns up."

"Okay," Kristoff said, trying to process the implications of Kai's story.

Kai started to leave, but paused in the doorway. "Be careful, Kristoff. Be very careful."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thanks to wannasalad, TheRecklessWolf, PenDrg0n, GCohen, valathe and OneEightActual for the reviews! You guys gave me motivation when I needed it. :)_


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Still wishing I invented Frozen, but I didn't. It's all Uncle Walt's._

* * *

The young National Police agent glanced up from his smartphone as the blonde woman approached. _Nice rack_ , he thought. His eyes tracked the woman as she walked by, dropping to her backside when she passed him. _Nice ass, too. She looks good coming and going_.

He kept his eyes glued to her derriere until she disappeared into a sudden rush of people entering the terminal. _Yoga pants have to be God's greatest invention_. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to his phone. He knew he was supposed to be looking for one Elsa Kjarensen, who was the person of interest of a backdoor 'locate and detain' order, which he interpreted to mean that the woman hadn't done anything wrong, but had pissed someone off. The vague description was mid-twenties, blonde, blue-eyed, conservatively dressed.

The blonde that just passed by met three of the four. Maybe he could use it as an excuse to go talk to her. He looked down the concourse, but there was no sign of her. _Oh, well_.

The young agent knew that being a rookie meant pulling a lot of the crap details, but hanging around the airport wasn't exactly what he had envisioned when he joined the National Police. His fantasies of taking down smugglers and gangsters had faded in the face of boring stakeouts and endless paperwork. He had been patrolling around the terminal since the wee hours of the morning, and the good-looking blonde was the most interesting thing he'd seen so far.

At least he wasn't the only one stuck out here. There were a number of agents scattered around the terminal. Hopefully not all of them were as bored or clueless as he was. He wondered if he could get away with going for another cup of coffee.

He had just made up his mind to go in search of a cup of coffee when another woman caught his eye. This one was a redhead, hurrying down the concourse with a slightly panicked look on her freckled face. She wasn't as shapely as the blonde, but still cute in a slim, athletic way. He watched her hustle by, admiring the way her jeans clung to her hips and thighs. She ducked inside a gift shop. Judging by her expression, she must have forgotten to pick up a present for her boyfriend.

 _Well, the morning hasn't been a total waste. All I need is a hot brunette, and I'll have the trifecta._

* * *

Elsa scanned the Crocus Airways departures board, looking at all the destinations serviced by the small airline. After her conversation with Anna, she felt a little guilty about what she was getting ready to do. She was pretty sure that Anna was being straight with her, but Agdar had hired Anna to _follow_ her. And report on her activities. Agdar wouldn't be happy when he found out that Elsa had betrayed him to the National Police.

It was disconcerting to be frightened of the man she had idolized for so long. If their relationship hadn't changed so much, she might have been tempted to call him. But she was so bewildered now, the terror of the previous night still crystal clear in her mind. Besides, what would she say to him?

 _Did you try to have me killed last night, Agdar? Are you still trying to have me killed? If you are, please don't. I'm talking to the National Police because I'm trying to help you, I promise. Why did you hire Anna to follow me? Can you tell her to stop?_

She tried not to think about the fact that Anna had actually saved her life twice in the last twelve hours. Anna didn't ponder; she acted, and Elsa had to admire her quick thinking and decisiveness. At the same time, she couldn't help but wonder if the rooftop escape route was pre-planned, or if it was something Anna had improvised. If it was pre-planned, why? Why would Anna need something like that? Was it a holdover from something in her 'misspent youth,' as she referred to it? Or did she know more about last night's events than she was letting on?

On top of everything else, her reactions to Anna confused her. The girl was cocky, sarcastic, and quick to anger. She could burrow under Elsa's skin and provoke her in a way that almost no one else had been able to do. Yet her tearful concern for Marshmallow, her obvious affection for Olaf – even the way she tried to comfort Elsa after they left the cabin last night – hinted at a good-heartedness that Elsa found appealing. The few moments of vulnerability that Anna had let show made Elsa want to gather her up and hug her pain away.

 _When the last time I really wanted to hug someone?_

No, she needed to separate herself from Anna, and the sooner, the better. Even if Agdar wasn't behind the attempt on her life, she rationalized, _someone_ had tried to kill Elsa, and that put Anna in danger as well. If they parted company now, it would keep Anna out of the line of fire.

When the ticket agent beckoned, Elsa stepped up to the counter and purchased two round-trip tickets to Gjoheim, giving the travelers' names as Ingrid Larsen and Anne Thorsdatter. She paid with her Ingrid Larsen credit card. Then, after pretending to receive a text, she asked the agent if she could purchase a ticket for her sister, who was running late.

"Of course. Same destination?"

"No, she's going to Oslo."

"If she wants the next flight, she's going to have to hurry. It starts boarding in about fifteen minutes and she still has to go through Security."

"She's on her way. She's not checking luggage, so she should be fine."

"Name?"

"Elsa Kjarensen." Elsa knew she couldn't purchase two tickets for Ingrid Larsen to two different destinations without raising a red flag, and her only other ID was in her real name.

 _I'm paying with my Ingrid Larsen credit card, though. It will be all right._

* * *

Anna sorted quickly through the gift shop's limited clothing offerings, looking for something, anything, to help tone down Elsa's appearance, if that was even possible.

She lingered for a moment over a knit sweater. It was a beautiful shade of ice blue, and would look great on Elsa. _Which is exactly not the point_. Even if it would really bring out Elsa's eyes. Anna shook her head violently, trying to clear away the peculiar feelings that swirled inside her when she thought about Elsa. _Or at least when I'm not pissed off at her_.

Suddenly anxious to get out of the shop, she abandoned the sweater and grabbed a black rain jacket from a rack on the wall. It was cheap, lightweight, came with its own drawstring bag, and most importantly, it was ubiquitous. Every other casual traveler in the airport seemed to be wearing or carrying one. She grabbed a gray knit hat on her way to the register, something that wouldn't be unusual for someone making a trip to the mountains.

The woman at the register totaled up her purchases, and Anna dug into her backpack for her wallet. She froze when her hand hit the pistol case. _Shit, I have to check my Walther!_

She found her wallet and paid, practically throwing the money at the poor register clerk and having to be reminded to take her change. As she hurried out of the shop, some part of her mind noted that she was extremely low on cash, and she wondered if it was safe for her use her debit card. She had to assume that whoever came to her apartment knew her name. The question was, did they have the ability to track her through her purchases? The NPs did, she knew, but again, they had to have a warrant. The other party was the bigger threat.

Anna wove her way through the terminal to the Crocus Airways counter, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Elsa still talking to the ticket agent. She pulled the firearm case from her backpack and headed for the counter.

* * *

The ticket agent had just handed Elsa the boarding passes when Anna sidled up beside her, making her flinch.

"Sorry I'm late," Anna said breathlessly. "Any trouble with the tickets?"

"N-no," Elsa said, her heart racing at Anna's sudden appearance. She handed Anna the boarding pass for Anne Thorsdatter. Anna didn't seem to notice that Elsa still had two boarding passes. She surreptitiously slid the one for the Oslo flight into her purse.

Anna placed the hard-sided gun case on the counter. "I need to declare a firearm."

 _Anna's gun! I completely forgot about that!_

"Yes, ma'am," the agent said. "You're Ms. Thorsdatter?"

"Yes." Anna removed a driver's permit from her wallet and handed it to the agent. The agent pulled out a long form and placed it on the counter, then handed Anna a pen. "I need for you to fill out this form. Press hard, you're making three copies."

"Okay." Anna went to work on the firearm declaration form. Elsa saw that she put her Anne Thorsdatter alias on the form. She guessed that the address and phone number that Anna listed matched that on her alternate ID.

When Anna finished with the form, the agent asked, "Is your firearm disassembled?"

"Yes," Anna answered.

"Are you carrying ammunition as well?"

"Yes."

"Can you please open the case so that I may confirm this?"

Anna unlocked the case and opened it. Elsa saw the disassembled pistol, nestled in the foam cutouts inside the case. The agent checked to see that the ammunition was secure in the magazine and the boxes.

"Thank you. You can close and lock it now."

Anna locked up the case. The agent handed her one copy of the form and taped another to the case, along with an orange tag. Then she put it on the luggage conveyor. Elsa watched as it disappeared through the flaps.

As they walked away from the counter, Anna said, "Sorry about that – I forgot about my gun." She held out a shopping bag. "I got you a couple of things."

"Thank you." Elsa took the bag automatically. "But why?"

"Come over here, and I'll explain."

Elsa followed her over to a row of chairs by the window. Anna gestured for her to look in the bag, and Elsa pulled out a black rain jacket and a knit cap. Puzzled, she looked at Anna. "Why did you get me these?"

"Because you've caused at least a dozen cases of whiplash walking through this airport."

"What?"

Anna studied her fingers, which were tapping out nervous rhythms against each other. "Elsa…you have to know how beautiful you are."

Elsa's heart did a little flip. It wasn't like she hadn't heard that before, from plenty of other people. So why did hearing it from Anna please her so?

Anna tucked her hair behind her ear and went on, "You stand out. People notice you." She finally raised her head, a smirk on her face. "I _told_ you that you look hot in those pants."

Elsa managed not to sputter this time, but she couldn't keep from blushing. _How does she keep making me do that?_ She glared at Anna, who wore an infuriating grin. "I fail to see how that necessitates you buying me a rain jacket."

"Here." Anna took the jacket and held it out. "Put it on."

Elsa slipped her arms into the sleeves. The jacket fell almost to her mid-thigh.

"See?" Anna said. "It covers the, um, main attraction." She gestured at Elsa's backside.

 _Oh_. She wondered if Anna had been staring at her butt when she walked through the terminal. Then she wondered why that thought made her feel…warm, and a bit discombobulated. _I really need to get away from her._

"And your hair…it's a really distinctive color," Anna was saying. "I thought the hat would help with that. You can tuck your braid under it. Or put the braid under the jacket collar. Either way would help."

"That actually makes a lot of sense. Thank you."

"I should have thought of it earlier. I probably would have made you change your hair. Color it, or cut it, or something."

Elsa's distaste must have shown on her face, for Anna quickly added, "Hey, hair grows back. You can't fix dead."

Elsa swallowed hard and put the hat on, tucking her braid under it. Then she tossed the shopping bag into a trash can, and they set off towards the security checkpoint.

"They may be watching the checkpoint," Anna said. "If we act like it's no big deal, just a hassle, we should be fine."

The trip through Security was surprisingly smooth. Elsa had to put her new jacket through the X-ray conveyor, but was allowed to keep her hat. She met up with Anna on the other side, shrugging back into the jacket as they studied the departure monitor.

"Gate 22 for Gjoheim," Anna said. "Looks like it's on time."

Elsa nodded, noting that the flight to Oslo was at Gate 14. It would start boarding in a few minutes. She would have to slip away from Anna soon.

They walked down the concourse toward their gate. Elsa eyed the crowd at Gate 14. If the flight to Oslo was full, it might be easier for her to get away unnoticed. _Now that I have my butt and hair covered_ , some part of her snarked.

Spotting a ladies' room about halfway between the two gates, Elsa decided to make her move. "I need to use the restroom," she told Anna. I'll meet you at the gate."

"Okay," Anna replied. She kept walking and Elsa ducked into the restroom. She would wait a few minutes to give Anna time to get to the Gjoheim gate, then she would board the flight to Oslo.

Elsa went to the sink and washed her hands. She wondered what Anna would do when she didn't show for the Gjoheim flight. Would she search the airport for Elsa? Would she figure out that Elsa had boarded another flight, or would she think Elsa had left the airport altogether? She might think that Elsa got picked up by the National Police. What about Anna's gun? It was probably already on the plane. Would Anna have to go to Gjoheim to retrieve it, or would Crocus Airways return it to her?

Elsa leaned on her hands and stared into the mirror. She decided she really didn't like the person looking back at her.

She almost ran out of the bathroom. She didn't notice the fine layer of frost coating the sink and counter.

* * *

"There she is!"

The National Police technician sat in the back of a white surveillance van in the airport's service lot. The wall of the van was covered with monitors that showed the status and gate number of every flight arriving and departing Arendelle International. The NPs had an agreement with every airline, one that allowed them to put flags in their reservation systems to notify the NPs if a person of interest booked a flight. The job had gotten much easier since many airlines had started sharing the same system.

"Where?" The field agent sharing the van grabbed his radio.

The tech put the flight info on one of the monitors. "She just booked a flight to Oslo. Crocus Airways, Gate 14. It's about to start boarding."

The field agent relayed the information to the team in the airport. Then he said to the tech, "Call Bjorgman and get him out here," before he jumped out of the van and ran toward the terminal.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to wannasalad, PenDrag0n, Gcohen and wenkan for the kind reviews! I'm sorry I've been slow about replying - work has been a bit crazy for the last week or so._

 _If you're just joining us, welcome! If you like what you see, hit the review box and let me know. If you don't like, let me know that as well - I'm always up for some CC._


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Frozen still belongs to Disney_

* * *

Anna had just sat down at Gate 22 when two men in dark suits hurried by, almost running. As she watched them, apprehensive, a third man rushed by, reaching into his jacket. That couldn't be good.

Grabbing up her backpack to follow them, she stepped out of the gate area and was almost barreled over by a couple of big men in jeans and leather jackets. "Watch where you're going, Toots," one of them growled as he pushed her aside. Before she could retort, they were gone, following the men in suits.

"Assholes," she muttered. She looked around, saw no one else who appeared to be in a hurry, and then set off after the group, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

She saw Elsa come out of the ladies' room right after the men went by it. She slowed down; maybe there was nothing wrong. Then Elsa glanced at her watch, and instead of turning toward Anna, she adjusted her backpack and walked in the opposite direction.

 _Where is she going? Is she turned around?_

Elsa kept walking away, moving with too much purpose to just be turned around. Anna started to call out to her when it hit her: S _hit, she's going for a different flight!_

Anna hadn't known until right that minute that it was actually possible to be angry enough to see red. After everything they'd been through, Elsa was _ditching_ her? And from the way Elsa had looked at her watch, Anna knew whatever flight she was headed for was probably leaving soon. She started after the other woman, then paused to look at the departure board, her gaze flying down the gate listings until she saw one that was flashing 'Boarding.' Flight to Corona City at Gate 10. But there was another flight boarding as well, this one going to Oslo from Gate 14. So which one was it?

There was one way to find out. Anna took off, cutting through two gate areas. She managed to get past Elsa without Elsa seeing her, but stopped abruptly right before Gate 14. The men in suits that had run past her before were now at Gate 14, talking to a nervous-looking Crocus Airways gate agent. One of them held out a leather wallet, and Anna saw the flash of a badge. Then the men stepped back behind a partition, watching the crowd at in the gate area.

Definitely National Police.

 _Elsa, what have you done?_

Anna swore under her breath. Elsa must have booked a ticket to Oslo in her real name. She couldn't buy two tickets for two different destinations under the same name, especially if they were leaving only a few minutes apart. It would have thrown up a warning to the ticket agent. Elsa only had one fake ID, so she'd had to use her real name so that she could get on the Oslo flight.

 _Jesus fucking Christ, I ought to just let them pick her up!_

She turned to go, and saw the two men who had almost run her over standing at the back of the gate area. Instead of watching the crowd, though, they were watching the NPs. Intently. One of the men, who was wearing a black eye patch, said something to his partner, and when he gestured, Anna saw something in his hand that sent a tremor of fright through her whole body.

Elsa was approaching the gate from the other side of the hallway. Anna cut across and stepped in front of her, feeling a sliver of grim satisfaction when Elsa stared at her like a deer in the headlights. Before the other woman could bolt, Anna took a couple of quick steps toward her and pulled her into a hug. "Ingrid, it's so good to see you!"

Anna tightened her hold when Elsa struggled. "Listen to me," she whispered harshly into Elsa's ear. "They're onto you. The NPs are waiting for you at the Oslo gate."

Elsa stiffened in her arms, but stopped struggling. She seemed to go completely cold, and Anna shivered for a second. Then she stroked her hand up and down Elsa's back, whispering, "Turn your head slowly. There's a partition beside the counter. They're behind it. Do you see them?"

Elsa nodded. Anna went on, "They're not the only ones here for you. Look over by the windows. The two big guys over there. Leather jackets. Sideburns. Look like they might be brothers." Another nod. "The one with the eye patch. Look at what he has in his right hand."

Elsa gasped, and Anna felt another chill. She knew that Elsa had seen the hypodermic needle in the man's big hand. "They might not know what you look like, so they're watching the NPs. My guess is that they're going to wait until the NPs make you, then try to get close enough to stick you."

Elsa's head turned, and Anna could feel her breath coming in short, panicked puffs against her neck. "What do we do?" she whispered.

 _I'm thinking seriously about strangling you myself and saving them the trouble_. In a low voice, Anna said, "We're going to link arms and smile and walk away calmly like we're friends who just ran into each other in the airport and are going to get a drink or something."

"O-okay."

Anna looped her arm through Elsa's and steered her away from the gate, giggling like they were best friends in the world. Elsa's smile was like a rictus, distorting her beautiful face. She couldn't have looked less sincere. Once they were clear of the gate area, Anna picked up the pace to a brisk walk.

"Where are we going?" Elsa asked. "The gate for Gjoheim is the other way."

"We're not getting on the plane."

Elsa jolted to a halt. "What?!"

"Keep moving," Anna ordered, tugging on her arm. "We're getting out of this airport before they lock it down looking for us."

They kept moving, passing back through the security area. They had just gotten into the main concourse when someone shouted, "Hey! Elsa! Elsa Kjarensen!"

"Don't – " Anna began, but it was too late. Elsa turned, probably more from reflex than anything else. _Shit!_ Anna looked as well and saw the man with the black eye patch bearing down on them.

"Come on!" Anna said.

They took off running through the terminal, weaving through the crowd of people and ignoring their indignant cries. Anna's eyes darted around for an escape. She spotted the escalators for the baggage claim and headed for them, Elsa on her heels. The escalators were crowded, so Anna jumped onto the sloping platform between them. She heard Elsa curse, and looked back to see her jump on as well.

They slid down the platform to the gasps of the people on the escalators, tumbling into a heap at the bottom. Shouts came from above them. Eye Patch elbowed his way down the moving stairs, shoving aside anyone who didn't get out of his path quickly enough. Jumping to her feet, Anna grabbed Elsa's arm and yanked her along.

They dashed past the baggage carousels, dodging travelers. Anna spotted the doors for ground transportation and shouted at Elsa to head for them. Then she ducked around a cart heaped high with baggage. When Eye Patch got close enough, she rammed the stack of luggage with her shoulder, toppling it over and burying him in a pile of heavy bags. She sprinted after Elsa, Eye Patch's vicious threats trailing in her wake.

She caught up to Elsa out on the sidewalk, and paused to catch her breath.

"Where to now?" Elsa asked, her breaths coming fast and short. She looked like a spooked animal, right on the edge of just bolting wildly.

Anna looked around and spotted a sign for the tramline. "There," she said, pointing.

Suddenly a beefy hand clamped around Anna's arm. "You're not going anywhere, you little bitch," a gruff voice said.

Anna cried out when the hand wrenched her around, and she saw Eye Patch looming over her, the hypodermic gripped in his other fist. He swung it toward her.

Then Elsa was yelling, her hands wrapped around his wrist. He howled in pain and dropped the needle, releasing Anna's arm to swing at Elsa. Elsa dodged back, and the man fell to his knees, whimpering. Anna grabbed his head and rammed her knee into the bridge of his nose. There was a sickening _crack_ , and Eye Patch collapsed to the pavement, unconscious. Anna crushed the hypo under the heel of her shoe.

"What did you do to him?" Anna asked, staring at the livid red marks on the man's wrist. It almost looked like he'd been burned.

"N-nothing, I just grabbed his arm!" Elsa covered her mouth with one hand, her blue eyes as round as saucers.

A commotion behind them caught Anna's attention, and she forgot about Eye Patch when she saw airport security people pushing their way through the crowd that had started to gather. "Come on, let's go."

Ignoring a shout for them to stop, they ran down the stairs to the tram station, where they jumped the turnstile and managed to squeeze into a car just before the doors closed. They collapsed into a couple of seats in the back, away from the other passengers. Anna dropped her head back against the window with a _thunk_ , her heart hammering in her chest as her relief warred with her rage.

Finally Elsa broke the silence. "How did they know?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Anna didn't look at her. "You booked an Oslo ticket with your real name, didn't you?"

"But – I – yes," Elsa stammered, "but I paid with my other credit card, the Ingrid Larsen one."

Anna closed her eyes and jammed her hands in her pockets to keep from throttling the other woman. "They were probably monitoring the airlines' booking system too. They were expecting you to run."

"Then why couldn't we get on the plane for Gjoheim?"

"Because the first thing they'll do is check with the airline to see who bought the ticket for Elsa Kjarensen. That will lead them to Ingrid Larsen, who also bought two tickets to Gjoheim, one for herself and one for Anne Thorsdatter. They'll get descriptions of us – in fact, they will probably pull video from the airport security system – and have people waiting for us when we get off the plane in Gjoheim."

Elsa paled. "They can move that fast?"

"Who do you think you're dealing with, Elsa?" Anna hissed. "The neighborhood watch?" Then she sat straight up and pounded her fist into the seat next to her as something else occurred to her. "Oh, _fuck_ …"

"What?" Elsa asked. Her voice sounded on the edge of panic.

"My gun! It's registered in my name! My real name! The NPs will get it and they'll _know_ I'm involved!" Anna covered her face with her hands. "Now I've aided and abetted. I'm so fucked."

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in her legs. Now what? The NPs were right on their butts. Anna had no defense for what she'd done. Breaking and entering. Obstruction of justice. Aiding and abetting. Car theft. She was certain there were more, but she couldn't think of any right now. She'd lose her PI license for sure, and likely go to jail. Would they dig up the sins of her wild years, and tack those on as well? Old Judge Haller's dour face loomed behind her closed lids, telling her to get her act together.

 _Too late now_. Anna's breath hitched, and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. _What am I gonna do?_

"Anna…"

Anna didn't look up. She tried to ignore Elsa's soft voice, not trusting herself. Not trusting herself to keep her hands from around Elsa's pretty neck. Not trusting herself to keep from believing whatever Elsa told her next.

"Anna, please. Just take me back to the NPs. I'll tell them the truth. I'll tell them everything."

Anna didn't move or respond for several minutes. She just stayed curled in a ball, listening to the clatter of the tram's wheels against the rails, and the indistinct chatter of a dozen background conversations. Finally she lifted her head. "No."

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't think they'll believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you just tried to leave the country!" Anna turned to look at her, struggling to control her temper. "You want to tell me what that was all about?!"

Elsa wouldn't look at her. "I don't think I can."

"Try."

"You wouldn't understand."

"How can I understand if you won't tell me?" Anna put her hand under Elsa's chin and turned the other woman's face toward her. Elsa closed her eyes, refusing to meet Anna's gaze. She pulled away from Anna's hand and looked down.

"I…I thought it would be better if you weren't with me," she said finally. She still didn't look at Anna, wrapping her arms around herself and keeping her eyes on her lap. "I thought you would be safer that way."

"You were trying to _protect_ me?" Anna asked, incredulous. "Why don't I believe that?" The problem was that part of her desperately wanted to believe that. She suppressed that impulse savagely.

"It's true!" Elsa said.

Anna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Elsa, they were at my apartment, whoever _they_ are. They know I'm involved. So you ditching me doesn't make me safer. In fact, it might make it even more dangerous for me. I'm just a loose end without you."

"But the NPs were at your apartment, they already knew – "

"Those weren't NPs at my apartment! NPs don't disguise themselves as delivery guys and ring the doorbell. Their first rule is 'When in Doubt, Use Overwhelming Force.' They would have come with twenty-five agents, armed to the teeth and waving a search warrant. They wouldn't have even bothered with the doorbell. They would've just come in and taken us."

The blood drained from Elsa's face. Anna let go of her shoulders.

"The suits at the gate, now _they_ were NPs. They weren't trying to hide who they were. Another minute or two, and you would've been back with them, and they'd have a lot more questions than you have answers for." Anna leaned her head back against the window and closed her eyes. "Maybe I should have just let them take you."

"Why didn't you?"

I don't know," Anna said wearily, running a hand through her bangs. "Insanity?"

"That seems as likely an explanation as any, I suppose."

Anna glanced over at her and thought she saw a ghost of a smile, quickly covered up.

That sudden squirmy feeling _was_ insanity, wasn't it?

 _Yep. Definitely insanity._

* * *

 _A/N: And...they're still not at Elsa's place in the mountains. Sorry not sorry. I know some of you are getting antsy, and have let me know that, but take heart, they WILL get there...someday. Maybe... *g*_

 _As always, a big thank you to those who dropped a review or a PM! The feedback is what keeps us going. Thanks again!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

Kristoff slumped at the table, his head in his hands. Could this day get any worse? Nothing was going right with the case. VCID had found Persie Norberg's car. It had been completely wiped down – no prints. Even Persie's cell phone was gone. Fucked was having the car towed back to the garage where they could go over it more thoroughly, but that would take time. He'd talked with the tech people, who were still messing around with the DVR. They were not optimistic.

Worst of all, Elsa Kjarensen had slipped right through his fingers. Kristoff felt like he was watching his career careen off a cliff, and the only thing left waiting for him was the spectacular flameout when he hit rock bottom. He had just taken out his frustration on a rookie agent who had let Elsa walk right past him in the airport and done nothing but ogle her. Playing fucking Free Fall instead of paying attention to his job.

Kristoff was in a conference room next to the airport security director's office, where he and Kai had interviewed the Crocus Airways agent who had sold Elsa her tickets. They had reviewed the surveillance tapes and the woman easily picked out Elsa. When Kai showed her a picture of Elsa, she confirmed that they were the same person.

It looked like Elsa now had help. Also captured on the video was a young red-haired woman who had joined Elsa at the ticket counter. The ticket agent clearly remembered her because she had checked a firearm. A redheaded woman has also been part of a reported scuffle outside the baggage claim area and an airport security officer had seen two women running into the tram station. Kristoff had ordered the video pulled from the airport station's cameras, as well as those from the stations further down the line. Airport security had taken the man involved in the scuffle to the hospital, where he would be questioned as soon as he was able to talk.

Kai came into the conference room, phone to his ear, a folder under his arm and a hard-sided firearms case in his hand. He set the case on the table. Kristoff opened the case and looked at the Walther PPK nestled inside. It was still covered with fingerprint powder.

"Yes. Thank you for the update," Kai said into the phone. He hung up and clipped the phone to his belt, then sat down opposite Kristoff. "FU was able to pull some partials, but we have something even better. The gun is registered," Kai said. He handed the folder to Kristoff, who opened it and flipped through its contents.

"Anna Aarndahl. Do we know anything about her?"

"She's a private investigator. She seems legitimate, if a bit young. She has a juvenile record, and I've called in a request to the Defense Ministry for her Army personnel jacket."

Kristoff scanned the length of Aarndahl's juvie rap sheet, letting out a low whistle. Truancy, criminal mischief, disorderly conduct, breaking and entering, resisting an officer, reckless endangerment, joyriding… "She wrecked a city alderman's new Ferrari?"

"I remember that incident. Quite embarrassing for the alderman, given his 'man of the people' rhetoric."

Kristoff leafed through the rest of Aarndahl's record. Two stints in juvenile detention. Guardians at the end of their rope with her. "Looks like she managed to push all of Judge Haller's buttons. He gave her the 'Army or jail' option. At sixteen."

"It seems to have worked. There hasn't been even a whiff of trouble from her since her discharge."

"Or she's just gotten better at not getting caught. Did you show this to the ticket agent?" Kristoff held up a picture of a red-haired, freckle-faced teenaged girl.

"Yes. She confirmed that Aarndahl was the woman with Kjarensen." Kai opened a bottle of water and took a long swallow. "VCID also found spent pistol casings in the woods at the cabin. 9mm short. Whoever fired the pistol emptied half a magazine at something."

Kristoff looked at the Walther again. "The PPK fires 9mm short. Think this is the same gun?"

"They haven't found any slugs yet, but Ballistics should be able to tell us if the pin marking are the same," Kai said. "Since we have her ammo, we can test-fire from the source, which is ideal. They're also checking the casings for fingerprints. It doesn't place Aarndahl definitively at the scene, since she could have loaded the pistol earlier and someone else fired it at the cabin, but it's still something."

They both knew that the cartridge casings were a much better surface for fingerprints than a ridged pistol grip.

"Wish we could get her prints inside the cabin," Kristoff said.

"FU said there was nothing. If Aarndahl was in the cabin, she knew what she was doing. She probably wore gloves."

"If the ballistics match, then she was the one who wounded the shooter."

"She didn't fire all those shots at Persie, that much is certain," Kai said. "The Walther's effective range is fairly limited, and even then it doesn't have a lot of stopping power. If she was able to hit Persie with a pistol shot at that distance in the dark, then we should hire her as a marksmanship instructor at the Politiskolen."

Kai took another swallow of his water and went on, "The lab has confirmed that the blood in the woods is human. VCID also found a rifle slug in a tree right next to where the pistol casings were. And the rifle brass they found near the blood was full metal jacket, heavy-duty ordnance. Customized rounds – no manufacturer's lot code."

"So it looks like Aarndahl and the shooter had a gun battle, and she came out on top." Kristoff scratched his still-unshaven chin. "Is there a connection between Elsa and Aarndahl?""

"Not that we've been able to establish so far, but we're really just starting to look."

"There's still the possibility that Aarndahl was the shooter. She could have come out of the woods, killed Persie and gone back into the woods. She may have fallen and cut herself. I know that doesn't explain the rifle brass, but it's a theory we can't ignore. Hell, she could have been carrying a rifle as well as a pistol – she was in the Army, we all learn basic rifle there. Or the rifle brass came from a hunter's gun."

"Kristoff, she couldn't have a shootout with herself. There were two different piles of casings," Kai pointed out.

Kristoff grunted and ran a hand over his face, frustrated by his fatigue-muddled thinking. No hunter would stand in one spot and pump round after round into something. He might hit his buddy or something else he didn't intend to. "Yeah, I know. But what's bugging me is that something spooked Persie, caused him to pull his piece. If the shooter was in the woods, then it wasn't him."

He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the scene at the cabin when he and Kai arrived. He was on the verge of just falling asleep at the table when it hit him. "The door – the back door was standing wide open when we got there. Persie must have seen it, and that's what spooked him."

"That, and maybe he saw Aarndahl's boots as well – the back porch isn't that big," Kai said. "The young lady definitely knows what she's doing. She took off the boots before she went in the house to avoid leaving muddy footprints behind."

"Then she leaves the cabin in a big hurry and doesn't stop to grab her boots. The question is, why was she there in the first place?"

"Maybe someone hired her to follow Kjarensen."

"Erikksen?"

"He would be at the top of my list."

"Mine too," Kristoff said. "But if he hired the shooter to whack Elsa, why have Aarndahl there to witness it?"

"Maybe Aarndahl wasn't meant to witness it. Maybe he used her to track Kjarensen, find out where we were taking her, then passed that on to his shooter. But then he forgets to call off Aarndahl, so she's still tracking the target, and gets caught out at the cabin when the shooting starts."

"Maybe." Kristoff stretched, his body aching and stiff. "Just to complicate things a little more, Elsa bought _two_ tickets to Gjoheim using her alias, one for herself and one for Anne Thorsdatter, the alias that Aarndahl was using. But she only bought _one_ ticket to Oslo. In her own name."

"Do you think she was trying to get away from Aarndahl? We do have surveillance video of Aarndahl following our guys toward the Oslo gate."

"The ticket agent said that Aarndahl didn't come up to the counter until after Elsa bought the tickets. And we have video of the two of them leaving the Oslo gate area, and then Aarndahl pulling her through the baggage claim." Elsa had been wearing a hat and jacket by that point, probably a rudimentary attempt at disguise, but they had a few clear frames of her face. Tech would clean up the video, but Kristoff was positive it was Elsa.

"A reluctant partnership, it would seem. At least on Kjarensen's part."

"You know what I'd really like to do, Kai?"

"Go home to get some much needed rest?"

"I'm good," Kristoff lied. Kai snorted. "No, what I'd really like to do is return Miss Aarndahl's boots to her. We have her home address?"

"University Place," Kai said.

Kristoff stood and cracked his back. "Let's go, then."

"I'll drive."

"You don't trust me, Kai?"

"Let me put it this way: When I die, I want to go out like my grandmother, peacefully in her sleep, and not screaming in terror like her passengers."

* * *

Kristoff and Kai pulled up to the curb in front of the big yellow house. "Not exactly a student slum, is it?" Kristoff remarked as they got out and walked toward the front door.

"No, but it's not a high-rent area, either. I'll bet it's been converted to apartments," Kai said. He looked around. "Pretty street, though. It's not a bad location for a young person. I bet there are a lot of things to do this close to the University. Plus bars and cheap food."

Kai was right, Kristoff saw when they reached the front door – the house had been divided into apartments. They both took note of the camera above the door and the combination keypad set into the handle. Kristoff found the button labeled 'A. Aarndahl' on the doorbell/intercom panel and pressed it.

He didn't really expect an answer. Anna Aarndahl was surely too smart to return to her apartment after the events at the airport. He pressed the button again, just for good measure, and was startled when the intercom crackled.

"Who are you?" a voice demanded,

Kai raised an eyebrow. Kristoff shrugged, then said, "Inspector Bjorgman and Agent Haugland of the National Police."

"Hold your badges up the camera," came the voice again, cracking a bit this time. It sounded young and male.

Kristoff and Kai held their badges up to the camera. They both carried them the same way, with the badge pinned to the outside of the ID case. It was meant to be intimidating. And perhaps it was, as the next voice that came through the speaker was adult and female.

"Show the ID card part now," the new voice said.

"Ma'am - " Kristoff began, but Kai put a hand on his arm. They flipped their ID cases open and held them up to the camera. After a very long thirty seconds, a solenoid buzzed and they heard the latch click open.

They entered the foyer, where a stout middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform stood right outside of the first apartment. She eyed them warily, her arms crossed over her large bosom.

"Let me see them again," she said, holding out her hand.

"Ma'am, we're not allowed to hand you our creds," Kristoff said. He moved closer to her and held out his ID case, showing both badge and card. Her apartment opened and an adolescent boy stepped out into the foyer. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his large nose, and stared at the creds over the woman's shoulder.

The woman looked at the boy and he nodded. "Sorry," the woman said, "but we can't be too careful after everything that went on here this morning."

Kristoff frowned, feeling a hint of foreboding. "What went on here this morning?"

The woman looked at him sharply and asked, "Who did you come to see, again?"

"Anna Aarndahl."

The woman pressed her lips together, then sighed. "That's what I thought. Well, Anna's not here."

"Do you have any idea where she might be, Ms…?"

"Sommersonn. And no, I don't know where she went."

"She went away with Elsa!" the boy piped up.

"Olaf!" Ms. Sommersonn snapped. The boy's eyes widened and he quickly retreated into the apartment.

Kai looked at Kristoff and raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Sommerson, why don't we go inside, rather than discuss this in the hall?"

She studied them for a moment. Then, almost visibly making up her mind, she waved them inside.

The apartment contained a lot of old, worn furniture. A flat-screen TV dominated the small sitting area, with video games scattered across the sofa and coffee table. The smell of fried fish and something pickled permeated the air.

"Olaf, pick up those games so the policemen can sit down," Ms. Sommersonn ordered. The boy scurried around, picking up the games and piling them by the TV. Kristoff and Kai sat down. They both politely turned down her offer of coffee. She settled into the stained armchair next to the sofa.

An enormous white dog with a bandage wrapped awkwardly around his head came in from the kitchen. He eyed them with suspicion, growling low in his throat. Olaf put his arm around the dog's neck. "It's okay, Marshmallow," he said.

"Marshmallow is Anna's dog," Ms. Sommersonn explained. "Olaf is taking care of him while she's gone."

Marshmallow trotted over to Kristoff, who held out his hand. The dog gave it a cautious sniff. Then, apparently deciding that Kristoff was all right, he lay down and stretched across Kristoff's feet.

"What happened to him?" Kristoff asked. He stroked the dog's head, being careful to avoid the bandaged area.

"They hit him!" Olaf said, his voice quivering with outrage. "They hurt him!"

"Who hurt him?" Kai asked gently.

"The men that came. They were mean."

"Olaf, why don't you start at the beginning, and we'll ask you questions when we think of them, okay?" Kristoff said.

Olaf looked at his mother, who nodded. He perched on the arm of her chair and told them how he had agreed to take care of Marshmallow while Anna went out of town for a few days. "I do it whenever Anna's gone. She's a private investigator, you know."

"Yes, we know," Kristoff said. He gave Marshmallow another pat, and the dog licked his hand. "Did Anna say where she was going?"

"She never does," Olaf said. "Private means _private_."

"Look, Agent…" Ms. Sommersonn began.

"Bjorgman," Kristoff furnished.

"Agent Bjorgman, I'm not sure what's going on here, but Anna is a good girl. She works hard, and looks after the people in the building. She installed the video system, and the keypad on the front door, and refused to accept a skilling for it. She - "

"I helped her with the camera and the monitors!" Olaf said proudly.

"Yes, you did." His mother ruffled his hair and gave him an indulgent smile. "If anyone has problems here, we go to Anna. She always talks to the landlord for us. And she's so patient with Olaf."

"And she's really pretty!" Olaf was clearly nursing a case of puppy love.

Kristoff wondered how much the other tenants knew about Aarndahl's past. Well, it was probably irrelevant to them, if Sommersonn's praise was indicative. "She sounds very nice," he said. "Go on with your story, please, Olaf."

Olaf continued his story, recounting how Anna had been suspicious of the delivery man and told him to call the police, and that she had called him a few minutes later and told him to let the man in.

"Do you know where she was calling from?" Kai asked.

"Yeah, from her cell phone," Olaf answered, wrinkling his brow. "Where else would she call from?"

Kristoff rubbed his forehead. "Then what?"

"I let him in."

"Did you see this delivery man?" Kai asked.

"Yeah, on the screen and through the peephole," Olaf said, pointing at the apartment door. "He was wearing the brown uniform, but he wasn't our regular guy."

"Maybe he was a substitute," Kai suggested. Olaf shook his head violently. "You don't think so?"

Olaf stared at him almost defiantly. "I've never seen a delivery guy carrying a gun."

"You saw a gun?"

"Yeah, it was stuck in the back of his pants. I let Marshmallow out, like Anna said, and he ran upstairs. He was barking really loud. I never heard him bark like that before. Then I heard somebody yell, and Marshmallow howled. I think he bit the delivery man and the delivery man hit him."

"Did you go up to see what was happening?" Kristoff asked.

"Anna told me I had to stay inside after I let Marshmallow out. But I heard someone beating on Anna's door and yelling her name, so I went out in the hall. Then a bunch of men in suits came in and ran up the stairs. And they all had guns. I yelled at them to leave Marshmallow alone, but one of them told me to get back inside." Olaf wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth. "I got scared, so I called my mom."

Mrs. Sommersonn put her arm around Olaf and leaned her head against his, murmuring quietly in his ear. Kristoff felt bad for the boy – he was clearly shaken. He wondered why Olaf was at home rather than at school, but before he could voice the question, Sommersonn said, "I got here right after the police did. Olaf told me everything he saw."

"Did the police arrest the men breaking into Miss Aarndahl's apartment?" Kai asked.

"Of course not," Sommersonn said. "The police brought Marshmallow back down here and let them keep searching Anna's place."

"What?!" Kristoff exclaimed. "Why did they do that?"

Sommersonn scowled. "For the same reason I let you through the door," she said.

Kristoff felt his jaw drop. He and Kai exchanged stunned looks. "You mean - "

"I mean," Sommerson broke in impatiently, "they were the National Police too."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to Shadowglyder, GCohen, wannasalad, and Moosedrool for the reviews! For those of you who have PM'd me, I've really enjoyed our discussions. You can also hit me up on Tumblr - link is in my profile. Thanks! :-)_


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

"Anna, where are we going?"

Elsa asked the question as they turned down yet another side street. They had gotten off the tram at the first stop after the airport, then taken a cab into the city center. From there they hopped on a streetcar that took them to the waterfront. They'd been on foot since then, staying off the main boulevards and turning along what seemed to be an endless series of alleys and back streets.

Elsa's question interrupted the running commentary that Anna had been providing about…well, almost everything within their sight. Elsa didn't know if Anna was talking to cover her anxiety, or to make it appear as though they were friends on an outing together, or if Anna just liked to talk. Every so often she would pull out her phone and make a call, mumbling under her breath at the apparent lack of response. When it became clear that Anna expected no input from her, Elsa had mostly tuned her out.

Instead, she tried to get a grip on what was happening to her. Not since Papa's death had she felt quite so…out of control. Like she was no longer dictating her own path. Even her body didn't seem to be fully answering to her anymore. She felt as though some low-level energy roiled deep in her chest, yet crackled just beneath her skin – exciting and frightening, alien and familiar, all at the same time.

Her thoughts kept going back to the man at the airport. What had she done to him? She didn't know. All she remembered was that she wanted desperately to keep him from hurting Anna.

When she shook herself from her thoughts, she wasn't sure exactly where they were. Elsa had been fine in the waterfront market – it was a place she visited often, and she was familiar with the narrow side streets where some of the most interesting shops were located. But they had left the market a while ago, and were now wandering through an area of run-down buildings and cracked sidewalks.

"Don't worry, we're almost there," Anna replied.

 _Almost where?_ Elsa rarely came to this part of the city. They were still near the fjord, but this was the industrialized port area. It was dotted with on-the edge small businesses, boat repair shops and secondhand stores. Several pubs seemed to be doing a lively trade, despite the early afternoon hour. Towering harbor cranes dominated the nearby wharves. Elsa wrinkled her nose as the odors of bilge water, salt brine and petroleum blew in on the sea breeze.

Anna ducked into a pathway between a diner and boat rental place. Elsa hurried to stay up with her. "Shouldn't we be trying to get out of the city?"

"That's what I'm working on, Elsa." Anna's voice held the strained patience of one talking to a backward child.

Irritated by her tone, Elsa snapped, "Well, you're the one who keeps telling me that NPs are omniscient. Not the mention the unnamed other people who are trying to kill me. So forgive me for being curious about what we're doing wandering around the wharves instead of leaving town."

Anna swung around to face her, but instead of angry, she just looked tired. "I'm afraid that if I feed any more data into that big brain of yours, you'll come up with the same kind of brilliant idea that you did at the airport."

Elsa flushed and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I'm sorry. That was…ill-advised. And rash. Something that I usually am not. But I had my reasons."

"I just wish I believed your reasons." Anna spun on her heel and kept walking.

Elsa bit off a huff of frustration. She hurried after Anna. "Look, if you really feel that way, perhaps we should separate. We can each take our own chances."

Anna crossed her arms as they squared off. "I can't go home. I can't use my credit card. I've lost my gun, the National Police are looking for me, and I have, like, ten kroners left in my wallet. So, no."

"I'll give you half my cash."

"And where, exactly, are you going to go?"

"Believe it or not, I _can_ take care of myself."

"Because you've done such a great job of that so far? Yeah, no." Anna shook her head. "You and I are going to be BFFs for a while."

"Why, if you really don't believe me?" Elsa asked.

"Mainly so that if or when the NPs pick us up, you can explain how I woke up in the middle of _your_ nightmare. And also because you have no fucking idea what you're doing. If we split up now, you're going to get yourself killed, and I don't want that on my conscience." Anna turned and started walking again, not looking at her.

Elsa opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again and followed. The truth was, in spite of all her doubts and confusion, she really didn't want to go it alone. Anna had been a steady, reliable presence in the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. Elsa finally admitted to herself that she _didn't_ know what she was doing. Maybe Anna didn't either, but she at least had them moving.

Toward what, Elsa had no idea.

They turned out of the pathway onto a wide boulevard lined with warehouses and equipment repair facilities. After several blocks, they crossed the street and stopped in front of a two-story cinderblock building whose parking lot was filled with motorcycles, with a few snowmobiles and personal watercraft mixed in. The billboard-sized sign in the lot said "Rider's – Best Deals in the City." A couple of gangly teenage boys wandered the lot, checking out the used bikes.

"I need you to wait out here for a few minutes. Can I trust you not to take off on me again?" Anna asked, chewing her lip and looking at Elsa uncertainly.

Elsa looked around. To her left was a thatch-roofed wooden building that looked completely out of place among the industrial-type structures that surrounded it. The faded sign on the front had a picture of a yellow duckling holding a beer stein. The pub might have been quaint if not for its precarious tilt and the large hairy man passed out on the front steps. To her right was a corrugated steel building whose signs indicated that it was a ship chandlery business, though Elsa wasn't sure why ship chandlers needed an eight-foot fence topped with razor wire, with a pair of Rottweilers patrolling behind it.

"Why can't I come with you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what my reception's gonna look like, so I need to, um, check the temperature," Anna said. Elsa cocked a curious eyebrow, and she added, "It's complicated."

"Do I _have_ to wait out here?" Elsa's eyes darted back to the pub, where the hairy man stirred and let out a loud snore.

"Just for a few minutes," Anna said, her lips twitching in amusement. "Or was that someone else back there who just told me she can take of herself?"

With no snappy retort coming to mind, Elsa had to settle for crossing her arms and glaring at Anna, who shot her a grin before she wove between the motorcycles and disappeared around the side of the shop. Elsa paced the sidewalk, wondering what Anna was up to now.

A menacing growl came from behind her. She whirled around to find herself staring directly at one of the Rottweilers from the ship chandler's yard. Elsa backed away slowly, her heart in her throat. Her eyes darted to the open gate. _Their security includes razor wire and dogs, but not closing their damn gate?!_

She backed away slowly, retreating into Rider's lot. The Rott growled again, then apparently satisfied, trotted back inside the chandlery fence. Elsa let out a sigh of relief. That relief was short-lived; the door of the pub burst open and the biggest, scariest-looking man she had ever seen came tromping out, raucous music blaring in his wake.

The man shoved the drunk off the steps with his foot and stalked into the motorcycle lot. The sun glinted off his bald head and the studs on his leather vest, and in his right hand he carried a dirty handkerchief that he used to polish a – _oh my God, is that a hook?_ She shrank back as the man stomped toward her, a terrifying sneer on his face. He brushed by her and pushed open the front door of the shop. She heard the tinkling of a bell when the door opened, a sound so oddly out of place that she almost laughed.

The whole situation was just surreal.

The teenagers had moved closer, checking out a sleek silver bike with _Ninja_ emblazoned on it, while gawking at her at the same time. Elsa pulled her knit cap down further and turned away, pretending to examine a bright red Honda that seemed to be the very definition of _crotch rocket_. Surprise, it was on sale.

Across the road was a business that leased heavy equipment. Cranes, dump trucks, backhoes. A mobile harbor crane stood right out front, a sign attached to its massive pulley that said RENT ME. Next to it was a warehouse, forklifts buzzing around, occasional shouts from the workers ringing out as they loaded and unloaded palletized goods from big, box-shaped trucks.

Everywhere Elsa looked, she saw a world that she knew nothing about. Her world had once been the ivory tower of academia, and then the rarified halls of the Nasjonsting, with its political stakes, demanding clients, and obscene amounts of money and power, all constantly shifting. But this, _this_ was the real world, Elsa realized, watching the warehouse workers. Employ people. Make things. Move things. _Do_ things.

The bell tinkled again, and Elsa turned to see a man come out the front door, wiping his hands on a rag. His face split into a wide grin when he saw Elsa. "Well, _hello_ there," he said, sauntering over to her. "The name's Rider. Flynn Rider." His mischievous brown eyes flicked over her appreciatively.

Elsa tried not to roll her eyes. He looked to be around thirty, with dark hair that fell rakishly over his forehead, and chin scruff that probably required more maintenance than the bikes in the lot. His jeans and motorcycle boots emphasized his lithe build. He wore a snug black t-shirt with the 'Rider's' logo splashed across the chest. Well, he _was_ hot, she had to admit that.

And he knew it too, if his cocky smile and waggling brows were any indication. "Can I interest you in some…riding equipment?" He stepped over a shiny black BMW cycle that, even to Elsa's inexperienced eye, reeked of unnecessary expense. "Stroke her right and she purrs like a kitten." Rider ran his hand suggestively along the seat, gazing at her from beneath hooded lids.

Elsa smiled sweetly. "Well, Mr. Rider, you know what they say about men who like big machines - " She broke off when Anna came around the side of the building.

Anna spotted Rider and said, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Eugene. That's not going to work on her."

 _Eugene?_

Rider dropped his leer and looked bewildered. "It's not?"

"Not any better than it worked on Rapunzel."

"Ouch. That's cold, Squirt."

"Not as cold as her. Even _your_ smolder has limits," Anna said with a grin. She punched Rider in the shoulder, then pulled him into a quick hug. Elsa just watched them, stung by Anna's remark.

"So, to what do we owe the honor?" Rider asked, tugging one of Anna's braids playfully.

Anna tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her eyes darting nervously. "Um…actually, I need a favor."

Rider cut his eyes at Elsa, then raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Are you into something, Squirt?"

"Can we talk?"

Rider took a deep breath, then said, "Sure. Come on."

He headed around the side of the building, Anna falling into step beside him. Elsa followed them, unable to quite make out their hushed conversation. Rider's expressions flitted between angry, concerned and incredulous, while Anna's face stayed screwed into a determined scowl that was becoming all too familiar.

When they reached the back of the shop, Rider threw his hands up and said, "All right, fine! Come inside, I'll get what you need."

Anna gave him a triumphant smile. Rider rolled his eyes and started up a flight of stairs that led to a door on the second floor of them building. Anna followed him, calling back to Elsa, "Wait here, I'll be right back."

Elsa paced the back lot of the shop, which seemed to be where Rider kept motorcycles that had come in for repair. She glowered up at the door where Anna and Rider had disappeared, hurt at being left out of whatever Anna was planning. She tried to quash the feeling; after all, her actions at the airport hadn't exactly shown her at her best. Had she completely destroyed whatever tenuous trust Anna had placed in her?

Anna was really all she had now. Elsa had no family left. Without Agdar, she had no friends. Just colleagues and acquaintances, not even people she went out for drinks with after work. No one she could turn to. No one but a streetwise young woman who was barely more than a kid. Although Elsa hardly knew her, for some reason she wanted Anna's respect, her understanding. And yes, her trust. But she would probably get none of them. So far, she'd done nothing to deserve them.

The upstairs door opened, and Anna came down carrying two motorcycle helmets and a bundle of clothing. She went over to a small bike in the corner of the lot and tossed the clothing over the seat, then hung the helmets on the handlebars.

"What's all this for?" Elsa asked. She looked at the motorcycle, all slick chrome and pearlescent green sleekness, and almost feared the answer.

"Gear we'll need to ride a motorcycle this time of the year. It's warm enough now, but it will get chilly once we get moving."

"But…we don't have a motorcycle?" Elsa asked hopefully.

"We do now," Anna said, patting the bike's seat.

Elsa searched Anna's face for some sign, any sign, that she might be kidding. Her heart sank. "And where are we going on it?"

Anna grabbed one of the clothing bundles, which turned out to be a one-piece gray jumpsuit made of a heavy mesh fabric. It had reflective yellow panels sewn into the arms and torso. "We're going to your little place in the mountains," she said as she shoved her legs into the jumpsuit.

"All that way on a _motorcycle_?"

"Well, we can't take a plane or a train or a bus, because they'll be covering all those places. Your car is useless and so is mine. We can't rent a car without an ID and credit card." Anna pulled the suit up over her shoulders and zipped it. "Eugene can get us a car, but he's not sure how long it will take, and I don't want to wait. So this is it."

"Who is Eugene? Or is his name Flynn Rider?"

"Flynn Rider is, well, I guess you'd call it his trade name. His real name is Eugene. He's married to my cousin."

Anna had a guarded look on her face, and Elsa said, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Anna shook her head. "He has some sketchy connections, kind of operates on the edge, but he's mostly a decent guy. He used to…teach me stuff. When I was a kid."

Elsa's eyes widened in shock. "You mean…"

"No, no, not that kind of stuff!" Anna said hastily. "The trick with the tennis ball, things like that. It's…well, it's complicated."

The upstairs door banged open again, and Rider (Eugene?) came down the stairs, carrying a box and something wrapped in a dirty rag. He handed them both over to Anna. "It's black, so if you get caught with it…" He ran his hand through his hair. "You sure about this, Anna?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now, beat it. Say hello to Rapunzel for me."

"Will do." He gave Anna a lopsided grin. "You owe me one, Squirt."

"Not even close." Anna smiled, but this time, Elsa noticed, the smile did not reach her eyes.

Rider cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Well, be careful."

"Yeah," Anna said. "Later, Eugene."

Rider flipped her a brief salute and retreated back inside. Anna watched him go, then unwrapped the rag to reveal a pistol in a holster. "Jeez. Not exactly what I was hoping for," she murmured. "Wonder where he got it. Oh well…" She opened the box, which contained ammunition, and set about loading the bullets into the pistol's magazine.

"Do you _have_ to have a gun?" Elsa asked.

Anna goggled at her. "Everyone coming after _us_ has one. Besides, you never really need a gun until you _really_ need a gun."

Elsa had no idea what to say to that. She watched Anna load the gun and shove it into the cargo pocket of the riding suit. She put the ammunition box into her backpack. Then she handed Elsa the other jumpsuit. Elsa just stared at it, twisting the fabric between her hands. "I'm not sure about this," she mumbled.

"Aww, come on, Elsa. It's a _motorcycle_!" Despite the situation, a huge grin split Anna's face, and she practically jigged with excitement. It was, well, _cute_.

Elsa shook her head and started worming her way into the suit. With Anna's help, she managed to get it on and zipped up. She turned the helmet in her hands, looking at it uncertainly as Anna loaded their packs into the bike's saddlebags. "I've never even been on a motorcycle."

"It's not like you have to drive it. _I'm_ gonna drive it. It'll be _fun_!" Anna straddled the motorcycle and pulled her helmet on. Flipping up the faceplate, she flashed Elsa a grin and said, "So, what do you say? Wanna go for a ride?"

Elsa inhaled sharply at her words. All she could see was a freckled face and those eyes, those sea-blue eyes. Anna tilted her head and the sun hit her face, turning those eyes into sparkling, wave-rolled oceans of blue. Elsa's knees almost buckled and fire danced along her limbs; she could barely breathe.

She was seven years old. It was summertime. She was in the park, sitting on a swing and reading a book, a tale of princesses and white knights. The boy with the freckled nose and turquoise eyes had rolled up on his banana-seat bicycle and stopped right in front of her.

"Wanna go for a ride?" he'd asked, those eyes wide and warm and oh, so _blue_.

"No," she'd said. But she had dropped her book right there and climbed onto the seat behind him. They 'went together' for a month, pledging to live happily ever after, and love each other forever and ever, though they never so much as held hands. Then Mama got sick and Papa pulled Elsa out of school, her education taken over by private tutors. She never saw the boy again, not even in the park, and she'd squashed the memory for so long that she couldn't even remember his name. But then, just like now, her knees had trembled, and a million butterflies had swarmed in her stomach.

 _Wanna go for a ride?_ And just like that magical summer, there was no way she could _not_ get on that bike. She put her hand on the seat to steady herself.

"Elsa, are you okay?"

Elsa started. Anna's hand was on her arm, her turquoise eyes - _oh God, those eyes_ – full of concern. "Y-yes."

Anna looked at her doubtfully, but said, "We need to get going." She flipped down her helmet's faceplate and kicked the engine to life, revving it a couple of times.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Elsa murmured to herself. She pulled her helmet on and swung her leg over the seat. Anna gunned the engine and twisted the throttle. When she released the clutch, the motorcycle surged forward. Elsa squawked and clutched at Anna's shoulders to keep from tumbling off.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Anna's voice was right in her ear, making her jump. The helmets had some kind of audio link. "I got it! I got it now." She eased the bike out of Rider's lot and onto the main road. "Hang on, I like to go _fast_!"

Anna opened it up, crowing in delight as they roared down the street. Elsa couldn't help but laugh; Anna's excitement was infectious, and she found herself reliving those grand few weeks when she was seven years old, riding behind her knight on his banana-seat steed. She tentatively circled her arms around Anna's waist.

"Elsa?" Anna said, her voice metallic-sounding in Elsa's ear.

"Yes?"

"Please don't pull any more stunts like you did at the airport. I want to help you, and I want to trust you, but you have to trust me too. Okay?"

"Okay." _I do trust her_ , Elsa realized. _God help me, I do_. She tightened her arms around Anna's waist and leaned into her.

Leaned into dreams and memories.

Leaned into her slender white knight with the freckled nose and the bewitching sea-blue eyes.

* * *

 _A/N: Well, they're finally off. Would love to hear your thoughts._


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

 _The flies kept buzzing around him. He slapped at them, but they just dodged his flailing hands and returned to circle his head. They dive-bombed his eyes, swooped around his ears, their incessant droning growing louder and louder until he swore his entire head reverberated with the noise. Why were they circling him? His face was whole; Persie was the one with the missing eye, with the blood-covered –_

Kristoff jolted awake, gasping. He heard a little whine, and something cool and wet nudged his arm. His hand automatically found Sven's furry head as the big elkhound scooted over from the other side of the bed.

A dream. Just a dream. But the buzzing continued unabated. He looked around his darkened bedroom and saw his phone, vibrating on the nightstand.

 _Jesus_. He rubbed his face and reached for the phone. He didn't recognize the number, but it was his work phone. Not something he could really ignore. Kristoff swiped his thumb across the screen and grunted out, "Bjorgman."

"Kristoff?" A quavering female voice. "It's Aggie Norberg."

"Aggie?" Kristoff pushed himself upright. "Is something wrong?"

 _Besides her husband just being murdered, genius?_ Kristoff swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head to try and clear the last of the sleep out. "I'm sorry, Aggie, that was a dumb question."

"Kristoff, can you come over? I – I found something and I'm not sure what I should do. Please?" Aggie's voice shook, her distress clear even over the phone. Kristoff sensed there might be something else besides Persie's violent death, but what could be worse?

He glanced at his bedside clock. Four-thirty. He'd only been asleep for about four hours. Had Aggie slept even that much since this nightmare started? "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Not bothering with the light, Kristoff stumbled around, pulling on a pair of jeans and an old sweater. He would have to come back to shower and change for work, but something told him it was important to get to Aggie quickly. He shoved his feet into a pair of boots and grabbed his keys and jacket.

Out of habit, he stuck his head into Grandpabbie's room on his way to the door. As his Forgetting Disease progressed, Grandpabbie had become prone to wandering at odd hours, and more than once, Kristoff had discovered him ambling around the yard in the middle of the night. The old man seemed be sleeping peacefully enough for now, if the rumbling snores were any indication.

Kristoff jumped into his government-issued sedan and left the house, not bothering with the blue lights mounted on the car's back parcel shelf. Traffic was light enough that he didn't need them, though he would have turned them on if one of the local cops had tried to pull him for excessive speed.

As he pulled onto Arendelle City's perimeter highway, Kristoff mulled over his visit to Anna Aarndahl's apartment house the previous afternoon. Mrs. Sommersonn's revelation that the armed men in Aarndahl's apartment were National Police had shocked him and Kai into immediate action. Kristoff had called Lieutenant Sinclair, who had quickly learned that no NP operation had been conducted, or even planned, at Aarndahl's address.

And then the shit really hit the fan. Someone had impersonated National Police agents, and that got the attention of the director-general himself. He had called Kristoff personally and issued orders. _Fast-track a search warrant. I don't care if the woman's apartment door is hanging by its hinges, do it by the book. And do it fast, Inspector Bjorgman._

The D-G had ended up handling the call on the warrant on himself, much to Kristoff's relief. The blame-dodging scramble had already begun, and Kristoff knew that any mistakes, whether they were his or not, would come back to bite him in the ass.

The director-general had ordered Fucked's top team pulled off another case to search Aarndahl's apartment, but in the end, they didn't find much. No travel documents, no maps, no Google searches to indicate where Aarndahl might have gone. There were no messages on the answering machine, but the log showed a number of received calls, leading Kristoff to conclude that the answering machine had been purged. Which seriously pissed him off, because that meant there had probably been something important on it. They did find Elsa's fingerprints, confirming that she had at least been in the apartment, but beyond that, there was nothing.

Kristoff ordered a deeper search into Aarndahl's background. She did have some family in the area; maybe they knew where she was or where she might have gone. He also had people checking into whether or not Elsa or Aarndahl had other property or residences, either under their real names or their aliases, but he wasn't holding out much hope.

He and Kai had discovered the attic ladder in the empty apartment across from Aarndahl's. Clever. He wondered if Aarndahl was involved in something that would make such an escape route necessary, or if she was just paranoid. Either way, she was proving to be a tough catch.

They had also pulled in and questioned the precinct cops who had responded to Olaf's phone call. The officers, two veteran beat cops, quickly pointed out that the imposters' creds looked real. They hadn't run away when the cops showed up, and they were tossing Aarndahl's apartment like experts. The story that they gave the police was that Aarndahl was wanted for questioning in connection with a fraud and identity theft case.

The phonies also had all the firepower and arrogance that local cops expected from National Police agents. Kristoff made a mental note to ask about how they could improve their relationship with the city police.

The imposters had given the cops a name for the supposed agent in charge. A quick search of the NP personnel database was negative, to no one's surprise. The cops also gave descriptions of the men to a forensic sketch artist, who was creating digital images of them.

But it was still pretty much a dead end. A dead end with some scary implications.

And to really put the cream on his cake, he had gotten another visit from Captain Chifu, who seemed to be taking some kind of perverse pleasure in Kristoff's struggles. He had come straight from Headquarters, he said, with orders that Kristoff was to move quickly, but remain cautious.

"Well, which is it, Captain?" he'd asked. "Speed or caution? Most of the time, those are mutually exclusive." Pushing thirty-six hours with no sleep, Kristoff's snark filter had not been operating at full capacity.

"Just don't make any more mistakes, Inspector," Chifu sniffed.

"I wasn't aware that I'd made any mistakes, Captain," Kristoff bristled.

"One of your agents is dead. You let the Kjarensen woman escape after she was practically dropped into your lap. What do you call those?"

"Someone leaked information that got Persie killed. How is that my fault?!"

"Please, Inspector, are you really that naïve?" Chifu sneered. "As far as we're concerned, if there's a leak, you and every member of your squad are suspect. And that is how Headquarters is approaching the matter."

Kristoff had walked off before he could give into the temptation to squeeze Chifu's head and pop him like the pimple he was.

He left the perimeter road and turned into Persie's quiet neighborhood. The streets narrowed the further he got from the highway, and he slowed as he turned onto the Norbergs' street. Easing his way between the cars parked on either side of the street, he approached the darkened house. A single car was parked in the driveway. Kristoff squeezed his sedan in behind it, got out and trotted toward the door.

Aggie Norberg must have been waiting for him, for the front door opened before he could ring the chime. She mumbled a quick thanks to him for coming, but otherwise didn't try to make small talk. She led Kristoff straight back through the house to a small room that had been converted to an office, with a cheap IKEA desk, a few file cabinets and bookshelves, and a computer. A number of large frames displaying stamps hung on the walls.

"I couldn't sleep, so I was looking through Persie's office," Aggie said softly. "I don't really know why, it just seemed…I mean, I almost never come back here, this was Persie's place…" She trailed off and a tear ran down her cheek.

"Aggie, it's okay, you don't have to explain," Kristoff said, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt a rush of sympathy. Bundled in a shabby robe, her hair matted and eyes red, Aggie Norberg was clearly near the breaking point. It wasn't like there was any rules for what she was going through. Persie was dead, but Aggie had to go on living somehow.

She picked up a cloth-covered binder from the desk. "I found these in a box with some other things of Persie's. I didn't even know they were here. I mean, who keeps photo albums any more, right?" She laughed weakly, but several tears plopped onto the album's brown cloth covering. "I found some things in the albums…they might look bad…but maybe they'll help catch whoever killed Persie?" She looked at Kristoff hopefully as more tears fell.

"I know this has to be hard for you." Kristoff eyed the album. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to. "Can you show me what you found?"

Aggie sat down at the desk and opened the album to a page with pictures of a group of men clustered in front of a fishing boat at a pier. Persie Norberg was among the men, smiling as they posed holding their catches. Aggie slipped her hand behind one of the pictures and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She handed the paper to Kristoff, and a key slid out of the folds and into his palm.

He unfolded the paper. It was a statement for a safe deposit box. The key presumably fit the box. He cocked an eyebrow at Aggie. "You didn't know about this?"

Aggie shook her head. "We have a safe deposit box, but not at that bank."

Kristoff looked at the paper again and did a double-take. The address on the statement was not the house he was in now, and the name of the account holder was not Persie Norberg. "Who is Karl Johansen?"

"I don't know," Aggie said. The tears were back.

"Persie never mentioned him to you?" Aggie shook her head. Kristoff ran his hand through his hair. If this box _was_ Persie's, if he had set up the account under a fake name, there was something else he would need. "Aggie, have you found any IDs or anything with Karl Johansen's name and…Persie's picture?"

Aggie reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a passport. She wordlessly handed it to Kristoff. He flipped it open. The name on it was Karl Johansen, but Persie Norberg's unsmiling face stared back at him. Kristoff leafed through the pages. No entry or exit stamps, nothing to indicate that the passport had ever been used for anything other than identification. He ran his thumb over the purple cover. Unlike the man it identified, the passport appeared to be genuine. Well, it wouldn't be difficult for a veteran NP like Persie to obtain high-quality identity documents.

"Where did you find this, Aggie?"

Aggie open the desk's bottom drawer. It appeared to be empty, until she lifted out the bottom panel. Kristoff's eyes widened. There, nestled under the false bottom, was a bundle of cash. _Probably a thousand kroners_ , Kristoff thought dizzily. Why would Persie have cash hidden in his house like that?

He grabbed a pen from the desk and pushed aside the cash. No way was he going to touch it. In the back of the drawer he found a fishing permit, also with the name Karl Johansen on it.

"I was thinking about going to that bank later this morning, to open the box, but I realized that they wouldn't let me. What would I say to them? 'Oh, this is my husband, but he was using a fake name for this box, so can I open it please?'" Aggie's voice cracked. "I never knew he had pictures from all his fishing trips. We don't even have this many family albums. A few, mostly with pictures of the kids when they were little, you know, before we had digital cameras and cell phones. I probably haven't printed a photo in ten years."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I think sometimes Persie was happier when he was at one of his stamp shows, or out fishing with his buddies than he was at home." She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Kristoff knew she hadn't mean to share that, not with a near-stranger, even if he was Persie's co-worker. He looked away, to give her some time to compose herself, and his eyes fell on the fishing permit in the drawer. He squatted next to her chair and gently turned the photo album on her lap so that he could get a better look at Persie and his fishing buddies.

Why would Persie need a fishing permit under a false name? Kristoff studied the men in the photo. One looked vaguely familiar, a gaunt, middle-aged man with a haughty sneer who didn't look nearly as impressed with his catch as the others did.

"Aggie, do you know any of these men?"

She shook her head. "I never met any of the men Persie went on these deep-sea trips with." Aggie took the passport from Kristoff and ran her finger over Persie's picture. "I never would have found this if he hadn't…life is strange, isn't it?"

 _Or just plain cruel_ , Kristoff thought. Aggie didn't deserve the hand that had just been dealt to her. He took the passport back from her. "I need to check this out, Aggie. But don't talk to anyone else about this, okay? Not your family, or friends, or…" he considered his words, "…any other NP agents. Not even Kai. Let me see what I can find out first."

Aggie covered her mouth again, her eyes wide. "Kristoff, do you think Persie was involved in something…well, illegal?"

"I don't know. It could be perfectly legitimate, so let's not jump to conclusions. Persie may have set up this box a long time ago and forgotten about it."

"But what about the fake passport? And the cash?"

"I remember Persie saying that he worked undercover a few years back. Maybe the passport and cash were part of that." Kristoff hated the lie as soon as it left his mouth, especially because Aggie knew it was a lie. No agent who worked undercover ever let their real and undercover lives overlap. It was too dangerous.

No, Kristoff knew, the passport and cash were not related to Persie's NP duties. The question was, was Persie the leak?

"I mean it, Aggie, don't say anything. For your own safety as much as anything else."

She clutched at his arm as he rose. "If Persie was involved in something…I have two kids, Kristoff."

"I'll arrange for someone to watch the house. You have my cell number. You call me if you see anything weird, anything at all. Okay?" He patted her hand awkwardly.

She squeezed his arm. "I did the right thing, calling you. Persie always thought very highly of you."

"Persie was a good agent," Kristoff said. But if Persie was found to be the leak, a mole, the National Police leadership would destroy his professional reputation, Kristoff knew. That would destroy the personal side of him too, including Aggie and her kids. But Kristoff would check this out quietly. If the safe-deposit box contained nothing suspicious, he would say nothing. No one would ever know. He would also have to check out why Persie had a false identity. But he wasn't going to ruin Persie's reputation, or crush the woman in front of him, without a damn good reason.

He left Aggie Norberg in the small office, where she still leafed through the photo album. Ironically, if Persie was the leak in Elsa's case, he had probably signed his own death warrant. When he accompanied Elsa that night, it had allowed whoever was paying him off to eliminate both the main target and the mole at the same time. Only luck had saved Elsa.

Well, maybe luck with a big assist from Anna Aarndahl.

The whole case had taken a turn that made Kristoff uneasy. He was not a believer in conspiracy theories. The fact of the matter was that most criminals were stupid. They were uneducated or scared. Or they were drunks or hopped-up punks who ran from their own shadows when they were sober, but who were berserkers when high. They left behind all kinds of evidence and were caught easily, or were ratted out by their equally pathetic 'friends.' They were not professionals in any sense of the word.

But this case was different. Drunken amateurs didn't pay off veteran National Police agents. They didn't hire hit men who waited patiently in the forest for their victims to appear. They didn't have credentials and swagger that looked so real they could fool experienced cops. No, there was something ominous about this one. Kristoff could not shake the feeling that some malign force was orchestrating these events.

Maybe he shouldn't try to shake the feeling. Sometime, to be paranoid was to be alive. Kristoff couldn't stop a shiver from racing down his spine as he left the Norberg's house.

* * *

As Kristoff walked through the house, he passed no fewer than three motion sensors, part of the Norberg's home security system. They blinked benignly, as the system was disarmed. The sensors functioned as they were designed to, but included an extra feature that the Norbergs were unaware of – sophisticated pinhole surveillance cameras that used power line communication to transmit their images. The tiny cameras were also installed in the home's smoke detectors, courtesy of the not-so-standard upgrade to the Norbergs' system.

Eckbert Weselton and Hans Westergard were on the hunt, and they now had Kristoff in their sights.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Updates will probably be sporadic for the next month or so. I am going overseas for a while, and I may have times when my 'Net access is limited. On the upside, I can hopefully build up a nice cushion of chapters. Thanks for your patience!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: Frozen totally belongs Disney._

* * *

Anna shuffled down the curved staircase of Elsa's mountain house, trying not groan at every creak of her aching body. Riding exposed on a motorcycle into the chill air, even in the heavy jumpsuit, may not have been one of her better ideas. Winter came much earlier to the mountains than it did to the fjord, and snow already covered the ground. The novelty of racing along on the sleek machine had quickly worn off as her ass went numb and the temperature dropped.

Having Elsa leaning up against her had helped. And it wasn't just the warmth of Elsa's body. The feeling of the other woman's arms around her waist, the way they tightened whenever Anna leaned into a turn (or made a less-than-smooth maneuver), the press of her breasts against Anna's back – it all made Anna's heart stutter in her chest and lit an ember low in her belly that spread a pleasant heat up her chest and along her limbs.

The sun had dropped behind the mountains before they turned off the highway at Gjoheim, and the temperature plummeted. Elsa's body heat no longer made a difference. Anna shivered so hard she could barely control the bike. By the time they rolled through the gate to Elsa's house, her whole body ached and her fingers were so stiff that Elsa actually had to help pry them from the handlebars. She remembered little else beyond trudging up the stairs and burrowing under the blankets in the bedroom Elsa had shown her into.

She went into the big kitchen, whose breakfast bar stretched the full length of the room to separate it from the dining area. A fresh pot of coffee sat on the counter. Anna wondered if Elsa had programmed it the night before, since there was no sign of her at the moment. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a mug, then poured herself some coffee and set about exploring the house.

Elsa had not been entirely truthful about her place in the mountains.

It was not the cabin Anna had expected. More like…a palace? Or at the very least, a mansion. Nestled directly up against a mountainside, the luxurious house seemed to stand sentinel above the neighboring valley, with commanding views of the pristine lake and snow-covered resort towns just below.

The first room she went into was some kind of office/library, with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books. Several landscapes hung on the walls. One showed the North Mountain shrouded by a winter storm. Anna gazed at it for several minutes, transfixed, her fingers hovering just over the canvas. The scene was beautiful and wild, and Anna felt a shiver as she pulled her hand away.

She didn't think her old school's library had been this well-stocked. On one side, books on architecture, design engineering, materials science, physics. On the other, art, literature, poetry. In a shadowed back corner, dusty works by Plato, Euclid, Cicero. The _Prose Edda_. There were at least a dozen titles that appeared to be in Old Norse. Anna brushed her finger over the spine of an old book whose title was written in embossed golden runes. Next to that, Newton's _Principia._ Academics hadn't been her highest priority, but she knew what _that_ was. She pulled it from the shelf and opened it.

It was in Latin. Suddenly nervous, Anna closed the book carefully and returned it to its place. How old was this book? Had Elsa read it? In _Latin_?

Had Elsa read all these? The more Anna looked around, the more unsettled she felt, like she'd stepped into another world. She went over to the desk, which held two large computer monitors, along with what looked like a drawing tablet and stylus. Several sheets of silvery plastic-like material, cut into intricate patterns, lay on the desktop next to a book titled _The Art of Kirigami_.

Weird.

She left the library and continued her exploration. She found a formal living room, a music room with a grand piano, an exercise room, and a solarium with a pool and sauna. An outdoor hot tub sat just beyond the solarium. She perked up – maybe she would take a soak later on.

The great room had tall picture windows framing the view of the lake and towns below. Across the valley, ski lifts carried what had to be some of the first skiers of the season up the slopes. Anna watched them, feeling a bit wistful. She hadn't been skiing since she was a kid, before Mama and Papa died. She wondered if Elsa skied. Anna was more of a snowboarder, but she thought Elsa was probably a skier, if she did anything like that at all. They could go while they were here. If Elsa didn't ski, Anna could teach her. Maybe. It had been a while -

"Nope, derail that thought train," she berated herself. "You're only going to be here for a couple of days. Maybe less than that, once you've pried Elsa's story out of her."

Elsa.

Anna stared out the great room windows, barely paying attention to the spectacular view. Instead, she mulled over the enigma that was Elsa Kjarensen. The woman was beautiful, intelligent, and successful, yet by all appearances, quite isolated. This mountain palace had everything a person could want, except for someone to share it with. It was beautifully decorated, but had few personal touches. No pictures of family or friends, no offbeat knickknacks or travel souvenirs, no clue as to _who_ Elsa Kjarensen was as a person.

And how did someone so young afford a place like this? Elsa said she'd done well, but either she had a real talent for understatement, or she wasn't being completely truthful. She'd only been working for about five years; somehow Anna doubted that even the most highly-paid consultants could afford property up here, not to mention the house, the expensive art and furnishings, the old books. So where was Elsa getting her money?

"Shit, maybe she is into something illegal," Anna mumbled into her coffee cup. Drugs? Elsa didn't seem the type, but that would certainly explain the money. Was that why Elsa was talking to the National Police? She had said she was helping them, but Anna had figured she was a whistleblower. What if she was rolling over on someone? Or maybe several someones? In that light, the cabin safe house made a lot more sense. And so did the multiple attempts on Elsa's life. Still, Anna didn't think so. The overall situation just didn't seem fit that scenario. Drug gangs were really dangerous. Before yesterday, Elsa was still going about her life in a fairly normal, if somewhat socially stunted way. If she was a drug snitch, the NPs would have swept her away into witness protection already.

"Urgh, enough." Anna flopped onto one of the room's long couches. She turned on the TV and found the Arendelle National News station, half expecting to see her juvie mugshot splashed all over the screen. Arendelle didn't have a whole lot of violent crime, and a murdered cop, especially a National Police agent, would be big news. But there was nothing beyond a passing blurb about an agent killed while working on an undisclosed case. Nothing about her or Elsa, nothing about a manhunt (womanhunt?), nothing about a disturbance at the airport. Maybe the NPs had been able to get the media to keep a lid on it while they investigated.

But it didn't make sense. The fastest way for the NPs to find the two of them would be to release their photos through every available media outlet and set up an anonymous tip line. She and Elsa could lay low here for a while, but they couldn't hole up forever. So why hadn't the NPs used the most powerful tool available to them?

 _Because it's more than just the NPs looking for us_ , she realized. The NPs were trying to find Elsa on the down-low. While not exactly a comforting thought, it did give them a little breathing room to figure out their next moves.

Anna sighed and started surfing, flicking through the stations for about five minutes before turning the TV off. Why was it always like that? Five hundred channels and nothing to watch. Besides, Elsa didn't strike her as much of a TV watcher. A sudden mental image of Elsa watching Eurovision, drinking wine and yelling at the TV, made her snort coffee up her nose.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to cough and swallow at the same time. _Oh, please don't let me spew coffee all over this couch._ Her mental picture flashed from Elsa watching Eurovision to Elsa impaling her with an icy glare when she found her immaculate white couch covered with coffee stains.

She managed to choke down the coffee without spraying it anywhere, but some of it ran down her chin and dripped onto the front of her shirt. Coughing up the last little bit, she padded back to the kitchen, where she put the mug in the sink and wiped her face with a paper towel. Then she dabbed at her shirt, sighing when she realized she was going to have to change.

She trotted back up to her room, where she stripped off the shirt and tossed it into the sink to soak. Anna was well-practiced at stain removal; she wasn't sure she even owned an article of clothing that she hadn't splashed, dripped, or coughed food onto. White shirts and chocolate ice cream seemed to be her specialty. If it wasn't food, it was mud. Or grease. Or grass stains.

Anna was willing to bet that Elsa never spilled or coughed food onto her clothing. If she looked up the word _elegant_ in the dictionary, she'd probably find Elsa's picture.

Where the heck was Elsa, anyway? All of Anna's observations so far had been that Elsa was an early riser, even on weekends. So why wasn't she up yet? Maybe she was just exhausted from everything that had happened. Or maybe…

Anna bolted down to the main floor, jerking doors open until she found the one that led down to the basement garage. She clattered down the stairs two at a time, crashing into the garage door before she managed to throw it open. The motorcycle was still there, standing alone in the massive garage. Anna breathed a sigh of relief.

She started back up the stairs, feeling a little silly. Of course Elsa wasn't going to ride off on the bike by herself. She had seemed pretty uncomfortable with whole motorcycle thing in the first place.

But…Elsa had already tried to ditch Anna once. Had she snuck out while Anna was still asleep, leaving her with a pot of fresh coffee and a totally screwed-up life? Maybe she didn't need the motorcycle. One of the resort towns was less than a mile from the gate. What if she had a car waiting for her in town? Or what if the caretaker had picked her up?

Heart pounding, Anna sprinted all the way back upstairs and along the upper hallway, skidding to a stop in front of Elsa's bedroom. She knocked on the door. "Elsa?"

No answer. She knocked louder. "Elsa? Elsa!" Still no answer. "Elsa!" she yelled. She tried the door. Locked. On the edge of panic, she pounded on the door, yelling Elsa's name.

Anna had just turned to go get her pick tools when she heard the first muffled footsteps. The door flew open, and there Elsa stood, hair wet and slicked back from her face, towel held awkwardly over the front of her torso, water running down her legs and soaking the carpet beneath her feet. Now that the door was open, Anna could hear the shower running in the background.

"What?" Elsa demanded. "What is it?"

A circuit shorted in Anna's brain. She could only stare, slack-jawed, at the water dripping down that slender neck, running over elegant shoulders and clavicles to soak into the towel. Her eyes followed a single droplet that trailed slowly down Elsa's sternum before disappearing between her breasts. She had to clench her fists to keep stretching her fingers out to retrace the droplet's path.

 _Oh my Jesus…_

Anna clamped her legs together. Her blood rushed south so fast that she felt light-headed. She dropped her eyes from the towel clinging to Elsa's chest, only to have them fall on a pair of shapely thighs. _Oh God, frying pan to fire_. Heat flared from her center and licked along her body.

"What do you want, Anna?"

Anna tried to speak, her mouth flopping fishlike and useless. A choked bleating noise reached her ears, and it took her several seconds to realize that the sound came from her. "I - " she squeaked.

 _I want to throw you on the floor and do lewd and sinful things to your body_.

"I - " Anna squeaked out again. Her gaze pinballed, wanting to settle anywhere but on the woman in front of her. She ended up staring over Elsa's shoulder into her bedroom. The sound of running water brought an unbidden mental picture of Elsa standing under it. Naked. _Fuck_.

She cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back into a register that humans could actually hear. "I want to…go for a walk! I think. Yes! A walk. That's it. You know, because I need to, um, well, check you - I mean, check things! Check things out, you know, around. Outside. Where you're not…" She glanced up at Elsa's bemused expression and felt her cheeks flame. "So, yeah, um, I'm just gonna go…I'll see you later?"

She turned to flee. _Ow! Shit, who put that wall there?_

She had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard Elsa's amused voice: "Anna? Maybe a shirt? It's a bit… _nippy_ outside."

Anna looked down. Her erect nipples were clearly visible, outlined by the thin fabric of her sports bra. She thought she heard a throaty chuckle and whirled around in time to see Elsa's door click shut. _Rude_. She slumped against the wall and buried her face in her hands, sure she was going melt into a sloppy puddle of confusion, embarrassment and lust.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

* * *

 _A/N: So, that happened._

 _Greetings from Japan! Tomorrow I head off to the place of Possibly-No-Internet-Access for a couple of weeks. Working on building up a cushion of chapters, so I should have plenty to post when I get back. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Either way, let me know!_


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer: Frozen still belongs to Disney_

* * *

Kristoff pushed open the door to the bank and went inside. It had just opened for the day, and there were no customers in the building yet. Only one teller manned the counter, and he didn't look up when Kristoff entered, apparently absorbed in something on his computer. Kristoff looked around. He saw a middle-aged woman behind the glass window of a large office, talking on the phone. Probably the branch manager. Several other people sat at desks in an open office arrangement. Kristoff had several scenarios in mind, but the young woman at the desk closest to him met his eyes. The brass nameplate in front of her identified her as the assistant branch manager, and that decided the matter for him.

She smiled as he approached her. "Good morning, sir. May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so, Miss…" he eyed the name on the brass plate, "…Hegerberg. I'm Inspector Bjorgman." He showed her his creds. She sat up a little straighter, her eyes widening. "It has to do with an ongoing case."

"Certainly," Hegerberg said. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I appreciate that," Kristoff said with a smile. He sat down in the chair in front of her desk. "I have a key to a safe-deposit box at this branch that we obtained during the course of a very sensitive investigation. We have reason to believe that whatever is in it may have direct bearing on the case. I need to get into that box and have a look at the contents."

"I see. Well, I…um…" Hegerberg looked nervous, her eyes shifting toward the branch manager's office.

"I have the account statement with me, if that will help." Money people loved paper, Kristoff knew. It didn't matter if they were fossilized government payroll clerks, NP money-laundering investigators, or attractive young female bankers. Show them a piece of paper, especially one with numbers and statistics on it, and they were pretty much satisfied. He handed the account statement over to her.

She looked it over carefully.

"Do you recognize the name Karl Johansen?" Kristoff asked.

"No, but I've only been here for a couple of weeks. Management trainee program."

"Do they move you around a lot?"

"Yes. They put us in different roles at each branch, to teach us all the various functions."

"I see. I guess being in management, you've seen a lot."

"Oh, I could certainly tell you some stories," she said with a little smile.

"I bet you could. Can you tell me how often Mr. Johansen accessed his box?"

"Oh, sure. All the logs are done digitally now. The box holder and bank representative sign on an electronic signature pad and everything goes directly into the computer." Hegerberg entered the account number in her computer and waited for the results to come up. "Can I offer you some coffee or tea, Inspector?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine."

She studied her computer screen. "It looks like Mr. Johansen comes in on a regular basis. In fact, he was here three days ago."

Kristoff flinched. Right before this disaster started. Did someone pay off Persie for the location of the cabin?

"Inspector Bjorgman, are you okay?"

Kristoff forced a smile. "I'm fine, just thinking. Is the employee who helped him here today?"

Hegerberg checked her computer. "It looks like that was…Per. No, he's out today. Sick child. I can call him, if you like."

"No, that's all right. Can you print that log, in case we need to follow up?"

"Certainly." A few clicks, and the printer next to Hegerberg's desk started humming.

"This box, how big is it?" Kristoff asked.

Hegerberg glanced at the account statement. "Based on the rental fee, it's the largest one we offer. Double width."

"You can put a lot in it, I guess?"

"They're pretty big, yes," Hegerberg said. She leaned toward Kristoff and lowered her voice. "This has something to do with drugs, doesn't it? Money laundering, maybe? I've taken a class on that."

"I can't really comment, Miss Hegerberg. It's an ongoing investigation. You understand, I'm sure."

She drew back. "Oh, absolutely. We all have rules we have to follow."

"A lot of rules in the banking business, I bet."

"You wouldn't believe how many."

She grabbed the log from the printer and handed it to Kristoff. Then they rose and walked back toward the bank's vault. Hegerberg paused and glanced back at the manager's office, looking uneasy. "I wonder if I should check with my supervisor first. I don't think she'll have a problem with it, but still…the bank is incredibly strict with access to the safe-deposit boxes."

"I understand. I just thought that the assistant manager would have the authority to open a box for law enforcement. But ask her if you feel you need to." Hegerberg looked from him to the manager's office and back again, a small frown on her face.

Kristoff continued, "I'm just going to review the contents. I'm not going to take anything out. Depending on what I find, we may have to impound the box." He touched her arm. "We do this all the time, Miss Hegerberg. Don't worry, I'll take full responsibility for it."

That seemed to reassure her. She led Kristoff into the vault. Using her master key and the one he provided, she pulled out the box. "There's a room here where you can check it without being disturbed."

Kristoff thanked her and took the box into the private room. He rubbed his hands on his suit trousers, swallowing hard. What would he find in the box? Would it destroy careers? Lives? He put his hand on the latch. With a deep breath, he lifted the lid.

 _Shit_.

The cash filled the box, bundles stacked from one side to the other. Small denominations, nothing larger than twenty kroners, all in old bills, all in nice neat parcels held with fat rubber bands. Kristoff did a quick count. Tens of thousands of kroners.

"Goddamn it, Persie, what were you into?" Kristoff hissed under his breath.

A murdered National Police agent. A box full of cash held under an alias. This could get very, very ugly.

 _Don't jump to conclusions yet. It may not be what it seems_.

He closed the box and opened the door to the room. Hegerberg was waiting outside. Kristoff handed her the box and she returned it to the vault.

"Did you find anything useful, Inspector?" she asked.

"This box needs to be impounded." Kristoff handed her his card. "If anyone, anyone at all, shows up here wanting to get into this box, you call me immediately."

Hegerberg's eyes widened in shock. "Y-yes, I'll do that."

"I really appreciate your help, Miss Hegerberg. Do you have a card? I may need to contact you."

"Yes, of course." She hurried to her desk and took a business card from its holder. She scribbled quickly on the back of it and handed it to him. "I put my personal number on there too. Just in case."

"Thank you. I'll be in touch."

Kristoff hurried to his car. He called Aggie Norberg to make sure she was home, then headed that way as quickly as he could. Persie Norberg's funeral would happen in three days. It promised to be huge affair, with all of the top National Police officials in attendance, as well as leaders from other law enforcement agencies and the Ministry of Justice. Persie would be buried with honor and dignity.

Assuming that whatever Kristoff has just discovered didn't bring it all crashing down.

* * *

There were now half a dozen cars parked in front of the Norberg's house, and Kristoff had to circle the small block to find a spot that wasn't in front of a fire hydrant or blocking a neighbor's driveway. Aggie opened the front door to Kristoff's knock. She looked much better than she had last time he saw her, now wearing a simple black dress, her hair washed and styled. But Kristoff could still see the dark circles under her eyes, not quite hidden by her touches of makeup.

"Did you find anything, Kristoff?" she asked as she waved him into the house.

Kristoff heard voices coming from the kitchen. Probably family and friends there to offer comfort. He also noted the platters of food on the dining room table, the smells making his stomach rumble and reminding him that he had not eaten yet today. He wondered what it was that made cooking and condolences run hand-in-hand. Was grief easier to handle on a full stomach?

"I'm not sure yet, Aggie. Can I see yours and Persie's bank records, if you have them?"

"Persie always handled our finances, but I'm sure all the records are in his office." Aggie led him back through the house to the office.

"Do you have accounts at more than one bank?"

"No, just one. I know that because Persie wouldn't do online banking. Said he didn't trust it. So we still get paper statements. Since I pick up all the mail, I would know if there was more than one bank."

Kristoff glanced around the office while Aggie looked for the bank records. Lined up on one bookshelf were a number of expensive-looking, leather-bound albums. He opened one and found it full of stamps, displayed in precise rows and covered with some kind of protective material. He had noted the stamps displayed on the wall when he was there earlier, but hadn't realized that the collection was this extensive.

"I didn't know Persie collected stamps."

Aggie turned to see what he was looking at. "Oh, yes. He started collecting even before we got married. He was considered sort of an expert on Arendellian stamps. He was always going to meetings and shows, every other weekend, it seemed like."

"Did you and the kids go with him?"

"No. He never asked us to go. He just told us he was going and went."

Something in her tone made Kristoff drop the subject. But now he wondered if Persie's stamp shows were a cover for his other activities. He shoved the idea away. He didn't have any evidence of that. _Yet_ , came the niggling thought.

"Here they are." Aggie stacked several binders on top of the desk. "At least, I think so. There are more records in that file cabinet."

Kristoff picked up the top binder. The label on it indicated that it was this year's records. He flipped it open and found bank statements, all labeled and neatly organized by month, with the most recent statement on top. Receipts, bills, and cancelled checks were arranged behind the statements for the corresponding month.

 _If only Persie's case files were this organized_. Chagrined by the snide thought, he turned his face from Aggie.

"I wish I could keep my records this organized," he said. "Tax time at my house is a nightmare."

"Persie was really good about money."

 _No kidding_. Kristoff thought back to the stacks of cash in the safe-deposit box.

"Aggie, I know you have visitors. I can look through these by myself."

"All right. I just put on some coffee, would you like some? How about something to eat? There's plenty of food." She cleared her throat. "What is it about food and funerals?"

"That actually sounds great. The coffee and the food, I mean."

"You take anything in your coffee?"

"Black is fine, thanks."

Aggie twisted her wedding ring around her finger. "Kristoff, you never said if you found out anything. At the bank."

Kristoff looked at the mingled hope and fear on Aggie's face. He was on the verge of ruining Persie Norberg's professional reputation, and he had actively enlisted the man's wife to help him do it. How would Aggie recover from losing both her husband and his good memory?

"Because I'm not sure about any of it yet, Aggie. I don't want to tell you something that's not right."

"All right," she said, meeting his eyes. "But you will tell me, won't you? Good or bad?"

"Yes. Yes, I will." Kristoff rubbed the back of his neck, anxious to shake off the guilt creeping up on him. "How are your kids holding up?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected. They're sixteen and eighteen, so they understand what's happened better than young kids would. Which is both easier and harder, I guess. I sent them to school today. I figured it couldn't be any worse than sitting around here listening to people talk and cry about their father."

"You're probably right," Kristoff said. He couldn't help feeling a bit of relief that he wouldn't have to face the accusing blue eyes of Aggie's son today. He would see them again at Persie's funeral, he was sure.

"How long have you been an NP?"

"Four years."

"Is it something you always wanted to do?"

Kristoff smiled. "No, I wanted to be a professional hockey player. I actually spent a year in the Dev League. It didn't take me long to realize I didn't have the speed or the skill to make a living playing hockey."

"So why the NPs?"

"It sounded exciting. You know, taking down bad guys, all that stuff."

"It's a dangerous job."

Kristoff swallowed hard. "It can be."

"Are you married, Kristoff?"

The question took him by surprise. "No," he said. "I guess I haven't met the right girl."

"You may want to think about a career change if you do," Aggie said. She met his eyes again. "I'll get you some food and coffee."

Kristoff stared after her as she left the office. She returned a few minutes later with a plate of food and a cup of coffee. He thanked her and began going through Persie's records.

What he found troubled him.

For the past several years, Persie had made regular cash deposits to his checking account. Nothing big enough to draw attention – never more than two hundred kroners at a time – and the times and dates varied randomly. He looked at the log that Hegerberg had given him. Most of the visits to the safe-deposit box corresponded with the cash deposits to the checking account. Visit the box, take some cash, make a deposit. And the checking account was at a completely different bank than the safe-deposit box. Not just a different branch, a different bank. Made it easier to avert suspicion, Kristoff supposed, or just kept Persie from accidentally trying to use two separate identities at the same bank.

Persie had been very, very smart about the cash. He made small deposits, and the checking account balance never varied much because there was always money coming out of it - checks written against it, ATM withdrawals, debit card purchases. Persie's National Police paycheck went directly to the account. Persie also wrote checks to a stockbroker, and it looked like the dividends from his investments came directly back to the checking account. Kristoff found the broker records in another drawer.

Other than the cash deposits, there was nothing unusual. The Norbergs weren't wealthy, but they did all right. Persie's investments had grown nicely, but they were nothing spectacular. If Kristoff hadn't known about the safe-deposit box, he wouldn't have thought anything about the cash going into the checking account. There just wasn't enough to warrant a lot of scrutiny.

Kristoff scratched his chin. Why was there so much cash in the box? If it was legitimate, why keep it in a place where it wasn't earning any interest? And there was something he _wasn't_ finding.

When Aggie came back to check on him, he asked her, "What about mortgage records or credit card statements?"

"We don't have a mortgage," Aggie said. "I mean, we did, but Persie paid extra every month and we paid it off early."

"That's great. When did that happen?"

"Maybe three or four years ago."

"Credit cards?"

"Persie didn't believe in them. We paid cash for everything, even our cars."

"I should do that. It would save me a lot of stress."

"Yes, finance charges are awful. We had a lot credit card debt when we were first married. We got it paid off and Persie said never again."

Kristoff cleared his throat. There was one more thing he needed to look at. "Aggie, I need to see your tax returns for the past few years."

It was the only thing that made sense about the cash in the box. If it never went into the checking account, it never officially existed. Which meant it didn't get reported to the Arendelle Tax Administration.

Aggie found the returns in another filing cabinet. Kristoff took a quick look that confirmed his suspicions. The only income listed was Persie's National Police salary and some investment dividends. He put the files back.

"Aggie, I'm sorry about coming in here and doing this in the middle of…everything else."

"Kristoff, I called you." Aggie gripped his arm. "Now can you please tell me what you found? Was Persie doing something illegal?"

Kristoff put his hand over hers. "I've found some things I can't explain. It looks bad, I won't lie to you."

Aggie seemed to deflate right before his eyes. "I guess you'll have to report it?"

Kristoff groaned to himself. Technically, yes, he should go straight to the Office of Professional Ethics and tell them everything. They would investigate. They had a reputation for being extremely thorough.

But he couldn't do that to Aggie and her kids. Not yet. Let her bury her husband with honor and dignity first. Persie was an agent for over twenty years; it was the least he deserved.

"Eventually, yes. But not yet. After the funeral. I'll be there."

Aggie threw her arms around him. He hugged her and patted her back awkwardly, then left the house. He sat in his car for a few minutes, trying to collect his tumbling thoughts.

If Persie Norberg was on the take, he'd been doing it for a while. Was he the leak in Elsa's case? Had he compromised other investigations? Was he a mole for hire, selling to the highest bidder, or had he been in someone's pocket all these years? Why would that someone be interested in Elsa? Was it Erikksen? Was that how he had avoided detection for so long? Or was it someone else – maybe someone interested in both Elsa and Erikksen?

He drove into the city, resisting the urge to stop off at a pub for a drink. The case was building like a snowball rolling down the North Mountain, and Kristoff could only hope that no one would get crushed when it reached the bottom.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks to everyone for their patience! Writers live for reviews, so let me know what you think!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: Frozen is Disney's, dammit._

* * *

Agdar stood at the entrance to the Arendelle Castle bridge and stared across at the gates. The gates were open by Arendelle's long tradition (except, of course, the dozen or so years in the 1800s that they were closed at the order of the mad Hermit King), but there were now a few concessions to modern security concerns. Stone barriers blocked vehicles from driving onto the bridge. An unobtrusive guard house stood to the side, housing the controls that would allow the guards to close down the bridge completely in an emergency. The guards posted at the entrance and along the length of the bridge still wore the ceremonial uniform of His Majesty's Own - a green longcoat with gold and purple trim, and tall shako hat adorned with the Arendelle Crocus. They were armed only with radios, but less than two minutes away, there was a reaction force of thirty Marines, fully equipped with modern weapons.

Agdar walked across the bridge, where the guard at the gate gave his briefcase a cursory check, more of a formality than an actual search. So far, Arendelle had avoided the sporadic terror attacks that had kept the Continent on edge for much of the last decade. Still, the Castle was the most important building in the country, and some security had to be maintained. The guard smiled and said, "Welcome to Arendelle Castle."

 _Welcome_ back _to Arendelle Castle_ , Agdar thought as he thanked him. The young guard had no way of knowing that this had been Agdar's childhood home. He probably hadn't even been born when Agdar left the Castle for good. Just another reminder that that part of his life was long gone.

He strode through the gates and across the courtyard, intending to go directly to the business entrance. The tap of a drum caught his attention. A platoon of His Majesty's Own marched in precise formation along the front of the castle. It was time for the Changing of the Guard.

Agdar watched the ceremony with melancholy nostalgia. How many times had he and Kris watched this from the upper windows? How many times had they run around the courtyard, trying to provoke a reaction from the stoic guards? _How many times did I get spanked for that, and Kris never did?_

But all these guards, all this pomp – none of it had been enough to protect Prince Kristen from himself.

Agdar turned away from the ceremony. He walked quickly past the public entrance, where a line had formed for an upcoming tour, and around to the business entrance. There was nothing ceremonial about the security here – the guards carried sidearms and wore earwigs, the white cords curling down into the collars of their suit jackets. One guard checked the access roster and called to verify Agdar's appointment. Another motioned him through the metal detector and then ran the wand over him for good measure. His briefcase received a much more thorough inspection than it had at the gate.

"You're good to go, Mr. Erikksen," the first guard said, handing him a Cleared Visitor badge to clip on his suit jacket. "Do you need a guide?"

"No," Agdar said with a slight smile. "I know the way."

He walked along the corridor toward the rear of the Castle, heels clicking on the polished wood floor. Looking around, he soaked in the warm colors and rich decorative details that were the hallmarks of the Castle's decor. He'd never noticed such things as a youngster.

Well, he'd noticed the suits of armor that stood sentinel along the corridor. Agdar stopped in front of one of the suits and examined the helmet. _They never did that dent out_. He smiled at the memory, he and Kris wearing those helmets, blind and swinging wildly at each other with their wooden swords. King Haldor himself had spanked both boys over that. Agdar didn't sit for almost a week.

He kept walking. His fingers trailed lightly along the wall, feeling the subtle texture of the rosmaling in the wallpaper. Why had he needed to leave the Castle for so long before he really appreciated its beauty?

At the end of the corridor, he went up a spiral staircase, turned right, and went through the double doors that led to the Royal Archives. The plump woman at the receptionist's desk smiled when she saw him.

"Go right in, Agdar, she's expecting you," she said, waving toward a door labeled 'Chief Archivist.'

"Thank you, Britta. You're looking as lovely as ever," Agdar said with a wink.

"Oh, go on, you old smoothie," Britta said, blushing.

He grinned and slipped into the office. A slim, brown-haired woman rose from her desk and hurried around it to give him a hug. Agdar dropped his briefcase and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. "It's good to see you, Idunn."

"You too," Idunn said. She pulled back and studied him, frowning. "You look tired. Is it work or…the project?"

"Both, to be honest," he replied. What he couldn't say was that while his work was failing and his 'project' might soon become national news, the two had collided in a most terrifying way.

She squeezed his hands. "I took the liberty of having some lunch sent up. Why don't we eat, and then we can talk?" She waved at a spread of domed serving dishes arrayed on a side table.

"Best offer I've had in a while," he said with a crooked smile.

They made small talk over lunch. Like Agdar, Idunn Fjelstad had grown up in Arendelle Castle, the daughter of King Haldor's private secretary. She'd participated in many of Agdar's and Kristen's hijinks, but unlike the two boys, she rarely got caught. Many a childhood adventure had ended with with he and Kris being dragged off by the ears while Idunn giggled in the background, having gotten away cleanly.

There wasn't much Idunn couldn't get away with, which was the reason Agdar had gotten this far in his search, and why he was here today. Idunn had all of Arendelle's history at her fingertips, literally. Some of that history had been carefully buried, sealed by royal decrees, and Idunn was the one person, besides the King, with the ability to access all of it.

Idunn poured coffee for both of them, then eyed him over the rim of her cup. "So what brings you out here today, Agdar? I get the feeling this isn't purely a social call."

"I've found her, Idunn." He had trouble speaking around the sudden ache in his throat. How long had he been sitting on this potentially explosive knowledge, unable to share it even with the person he was closest to? His chest tightened, and it was all he could do not to break down. Blinking back tears, he said again, "I've found her."

Idunn furrowed her brow. "Found who?" Then her eyes widened with comprehension, and one hand flew to her mouth. " _Oh_...oh, Agdar, truly?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Idunn slid her hand across the table to grip his tightly.

"Where?" she asked. "And more importantly, who?"

"Where?" He cleared his throat. "Right under my nose. For the last five years."

"Right under your nose…who…wait…your protégé? Elsa? It's _Elsa_?" He nodded and Idunn squeezed his hand. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Oh my God. What are the odds? How sure are you? You must be very sure if you're telling me?"

"A DNA test will confirm it, but I'm certain it's her. The threads I've been able to follow, they all lead to Elsa."

"So the rumors were true."

"It seems so."

The stories had been circulating around the Castle for well over a hundred years – rumors of a parallel royal lineage, a shadow succession put into place to ensure that certain provisions of the _Traktat av Norge_ never took effect. Tales of a queen with a secret lover, of a line of royal children with no idea of their heritage.

Idunn had been the one who uncovered the possibility. Fearful for her country's future and working from the premise that rumors usually had some basis in fact, she had secretly accessed the sealed archives. While there was no definite proof, she had found enough veiled references in old journals and correspondence to convince her that it had to be pursued.

But how? Idunn could hardly take the information to the Royal Council. Accessing the sealed archives without the permission of the King carried severe consequences. At best, she could lose her job. At worst, she could be charged with treason. So she'd turned to Agdar, who had the same encyclopedic knowledge of the royal household, but who was no longer part of it. Someone who could move between the two worlds without raising suspicions. She passed the information to him, and he ran with it.

Agdar remembered the day she called him. He hadn't seen her in years, at first by his choice, and then by hers. He'd met her in the back of a darkened pub, amused and intrigued by her cloak-and-dagger mannerisms. After twenty minutes and two drinks, he'd agreed to the 'project.' He had to do it – the government leadership was either grossly ignorant or completely indifferent to Arendelle's plight. Or more likely, they simply feared any changes to their positions and privileges.

"Does she know?" Idunn asked.

"No. I didn't…I don't want…how do I tell her something like that? It could be dangerous for her." He shook his head. His own wrongdoing had already put Elsa in jeopardy from Weselton and his thugs. If they were to learn the truth about who she really was… And Hans Westergard had an agenda of his own, Agdar was certain.

Plus, he had to find her before he could tell her. _Where are you, Elsa? Are you safe?_

"We have to keep it secret until I can put everything together and get a DNA test. There are a lot of powerful people invested in the status quo. They won't be happy with a real monarch after twenty-plus years of spineless chancellors."

"You mean the leeches that have done their best to suck Arendelle dry for the last twenty years? Or the bureaucrats who've enabled them?"

He flinched at the venom in Idunn's voice. His surprise must have shown on his face, because she went on, "Oh, yes, I know what goes on. Every significant scrap of paper in the kingdom makes its way to this office eventually. As does every official email archive. Do you know how much data storage we use here now? If only those fools knew…"

She took a deep breath, and he squeezed her hand. "Can I do anything else to help?" she asked.

For one desperate moment, he considered telling her everything. The bribery, Weselton, Westergard, Elsa's flight, all of it, just to have someone to share his burden. Someone he knew would listen without judgment.

No, he couldn't do that to her. But he did have another reason for his visit.

"Well, now that you mention it…"

Idunn raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Are you trying to drag me into another one of your nefarious schemes?"

"Always," he said with a rakish grin.

She shook her head and smiled at him fondly. "I always did have trouble saying 'no' to you." He waggled his brows, and Idunn flushed as she realized what she'd said. She dropped her head into her hand. "So what kind of trouble are you looking to get me into - wait, don't answer that…"

Agdar chuckled and then said, "I would really like to see the journal. To get some context and hopefully some additional information. Do you think that would be possible?"

"Hmm." She tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "I did get approval to open some of the documents to scholars on a limited basis. The journal was one of those. You'll be our first 'scholar' to request access."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, wondering what she was planning. She went back to her desk and accessed her computer. A few minutes later, the printer hummed. Idunn snatched the paper from it, scribbled on it, and stamped it. Then she handed it to him.

Agdar studied it. It was a standard letter, signed and stamped by the Chief of the Royal Archives, granting him access to limited release documents from the Frostahl papers for the purpose of scholarly research. "Really?"

"It's a thin cover, I admit. If I get audited, the jig will be up, but the Archives haven't been audited in over ten years. The people in power have little regard for our history, much to their detriment."

Agdar reached to lift his coffee cup and realized that his hand was shaking. They were so close. So close to getting Arendelle back on the right path. To make it the country it once was. _I have a chance to fix it, Kris. To fix what I helped break._ He took a shuddering breath.

Gentle fingers lifted his chin. "Stop it, Agdar. It wasn't your fault."

She'd always had an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking. He refused to meet her eyes. "I think it was."

"You didn't force him into that cockpit."

"He would never have tried to fly it by himself if I hadn't - "

"If you hadn't what? Fallen in love? Told him the truth?" Idunn's voice was deadly even. "It was _Kris's_ choice. Yes, he was angry and he was hurt, but _he_ chose to run, chose to climb into a helicopter he wasn't qualified to fly. And it certainly wasn't your fault that _His Majesty_ has chosen to ignore his duty for the past twenty-five years."

She moved closer to him and went on, "I felt horrible about the way Kris found out. I loved him too, Agdar. Just not in the way he wanted." Her voice hitched, and Agdar wondered how much of her own guilt Idunn had carried around all these years. But instead of supporting her, he'd pushed her away, too busy wallowing in righteous self-pity to think about the woman he loved.

He finally looked at her. A single tear slid down her cheek. He cupped her face with one hand, brushing the tear away with his thumb, and said, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She covered his hand with hers and gave him a thin smile. "And I'm sorry my pride wouldn't let me forgive you sooner."

He took her hand in both of his own. He'd always admired her hands, soft but strong, with slim, elegant fingers. They had a few spots now, a concession to the passing years, but they were still lovely. He stroked a thumb across her knuckles.

"Idunn, maybe it's been too long, or there's been too much between us, but when this is all over…maybe we could…try again?" He searched her face hopefully.

She smiled at him, and the years seemed to drop away. "I'd like that."

* * *

Idunn led him down to the basement of the castle, where an old cellar space had been converted to to archival storage. When they walked into the anteroom, a young woman with long auburn hair came in from the preservation and storage area, the door hissing shut behind her.

"Oh, good afternoon, Margareta," Idunn said. "Mr. Erikksen is here to see the Frostahl journal. Could you set it up in Reading Room One?"

"Sure." Margareta smiled at them. "You'll be the first person outside the Archives to view it in over a hundred years, Mr. Erikksen."

"I'm honored," Agdar said.

"I should have it ready in about five minutes," Margareta said before disappearing back into the storage area.

Agdar watched her go. "Attractive young lady."

Idunn snorted. "Good to see you still notice."

He grinned at her. "I've always appreciated beautiful things." He let his gaze slide over her, pleased when color rose in her cheeks. Idunn was still exquisite. Time had brought some gray to her hair, and there were lines at the corners of her sky-blue eyes, but they only added to her allure, the maturing of a pretty girl into beautiful woman.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, let me show you how this works." She led him over the door that Margareta had gone through. There was a register book on a table next to the door, and she made him sign in and put his contact information. "I can purge it later if that becomes necessary," she whispered. Then she opened the door and motioned him through.

"Wash your hands," she instructed, pointing to a sink just inside the door. Once he was done, she washed hers, then opened another door that led to an airlock. "The storage area is climate controlled, both temperature and humidity," she explained. "The airlock helps keep it regulated."

When he opened the other side of the airlock, he felt a gust of cool, dry air. A half-dozen glass-enclosed reading rooms lined one wall. Tall mobile shelving units dominated the rest of the space. Everything was spotless, lighting bright, the furniture spare and functional. Several of the reading rooms were already occupied. Agdar followed Idunn into the closest reading room, where Margareta had just finished placing an old leather-bound book in a cradle on the table, along with a pencil and notepaper.

"Margareta, would you like to explain how to handle the material?" Idunn asked.

"Sure," Margareta replied. She motioned Agdar into a chair. "You've washed your hands?" He nodded. "Okay. This particular journal is in good condition for its age, but you'll still want to be gentle when turning the pages. If you find any that appear to be stuck, let me know. If you need to leave and come back, make sure you wash your hands again. This material is still partially restricted, so no photos." She glanced at Idunn, who nodded. "Well, then, you should be all set. Let me know if you need assistance."

She smiled at him. Her eyes were an interesting shade of violet, he noticed. Quite unusual. "I will. Thank you, Margareta."

Margareta left, and Idunn leaned over him. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Agdar hesitated. He didn't really want to drag her in any further, it was too dangerous. The last thing he wanted was for Weselton and Westergard to turn their attention to Idunn. But he wasn't sure how much longer he would survive. His usefulness to the little weasel would come to an end at some point, and he had no illusions about what would happen then. Someone else had to know what he'd found.

"I'm going to send you a package. I want you to keep it in a safe place. If more than two days pass without you hearing from me, I want you to take it to the King." She started to protest, and he covered her lips with a finger. "I know he's very ill, but if he's coherent at all…I know he'll listen to you, Idunn. You were always his favorite. Maybe this will finally goad him into seeing to our future."

"More than two days…my God, Agdar, what is happening?" Idunn asked, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

"I will call you every day. A call, not a text or an email. More than two days, you open the package, read it, and take it to him."

"What makes you think I can get past the doctors, much less the toadies surrounding him?"

"Find a way, Idunn. You have to. Everything depends on it."

She met his eyes, and held his gaze for long moment. Finally, she nodded. He found her hand and raised it to his lips. "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_." Idunn brushed a kiss across his temple and left the reading room. Agdar watched her go, then turned his attention to the journal, where a teenage princess from long ago may have documented a secret that would one day save her country.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has faved/followed! Traffic has picked up quite a bit, and I'm so grateful to those of you who have recommended the story. I hope everyone is still enjoying the ride. :)_


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

-Where are you?-

Elsa tapped out the text on her burner phone. Anna had said she was going for a walk, but she wasn't anywhere on the property. Had she gone into town? Given that they were basically fugitives, she didn't really think that was wise, but Anna hadn't seemed to be in a coherent state of mind when she left. Elsa hadn't seen her so flustered at any other time in their short acquaintance.

It was adorable.

And God, the way Anna had _stared_ at her.

Her phone dinged. –shooting club—

Shooting club? Elsa didn't even know there was a shooting club in town. Then again, she didn't shoot, and she rarely went into town when she was up here anyway.

-Where is it?—

-far end of town past chocolate shop which we totally need to visit btw. road ends—

Elsa chuckled. She might not get into town often, but she did know where the chocolate shop was.

The shooting club was well past the chocolate shop, at least a mile, maybe more. Anna obviously had a lot of excess energy to burn off if she hiked this far. The snow had been cleared away from the road, but there was no sidewalk once she left town. At least no cars came down the road while she was on it.

"And exactly why are _you_ hiking out this far?" Elsa mumbled to herself. She wasn't sure she was ready to answer that question yet.

The shooting club wasn't much to look at, at least from the outside – the only marker was a small sign at the end of the paved road that said 'White Mountain Shooting Club.' The narrow gravel driveway led up a steep slope and disappeared between two hills. Elsa could hear the muffled sound of gunshots.

She hiked up the steep driveway. The outdoor shooting club wasn't any more impressive up close, just a shack with a window, where a scruffy middle-aged man sat reading a magazine. A wooden shelter with long tables set end-to-end under it stretched away from the shack. Targets dotted the expanse of snow-covered meadow. Two men with rifles stood at the far lanes, shooting at distance targets. Anna occupied one of the close pistol lanes, bundled up in a puffy blue jacket, wool beanie, and gloves, the only shooter there.

Elsa leaned on one of the tables. This close, the gunfire was painfully loud, and the sharp smell of cordite filled the air. Elsa put her fingers in her ears as she watched Anna shoot. Anna stood in a shoulder-width stance, arms extended, pistol gripped with both hands. She squeezed off half a dozen shots, hitting the target dead center each time. She dropped the empty magazine and smoothly loaded a new one, putting her next series of shots into the center of the target as well.

Elsa couldn't help but be impressed. She felt that odd twinge in her belly again.

Anna picked up the empty magazine from the ground and walked back toward the table, removing her safety glasses and earplugs. She looked startled when she spotted Elsa.

"Hi," Elsa said.

"H-hi, me?" Anna said. The flustered look was back, the turquoise eyes shifting nervously from Elsa's face to the ground and back again.

"I don't see anyone else right here," Elsa said, amused. She stifled a giggle when Anna's cheeks reddened. _Cute_.

Anna pushed her beanie back and tucked her hair behind her ear, then set the pistol on the table and rubbed her gloved hands together. Finally, she met Elsa's eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened at…at the house. I didn't mean…"

 _Didn't mean to stare at me like a starving woman contemplating a five-course meal?_ Elsa tried not to squirm at the sudden warmth in her chest. "It's okay."

A small grin crept across Anna's face, and she pushed her hair back again. They just gazed at each other for a moment before Anna started and said, "Elsa, why aren't you wearing a – oh my God, did I take your coat?" She waved at her puffy ski jacket. "I'm sorry - "

"No, no, it's fine," Elsa assured her. Until just then, she hadn't even realized that she'd left the house without a coat, only the blue cowl-necked sweater she had put on after her shower. "I have plenty of coats, I just didn't think to put one on."

"No coat, no gloves? Aren't you cold?" Anna asked.

Elsa shook her head. Strange. Snow covered the ground, and their breath fogged in the chilly air, but she really didn't feel cold. "No," she said. "I'm just…hot-natured, I guess?"

Anna cocked one russet eyebrow and gave her a lopsided grin. Elsa felt her face heat up, wondering again what it was about Anna that provoked such reactions from her. She'd been attracted to people before, but she'd never felt drawn to anyone else this way.

Her blush deepened as Anna's gaze flicked over her, then came back to her eyes. _And maybe she reciprocates?_

Suddenly desperate for something to say, she blurted out, "You're a good shot."

"What?" Anna shook herself. "Oh! Yeah, well, I practice a lot. I still need to get used to this one." She gestured at the pistol on the table. "It's different from my Walther."

"I'm terrified of guns," Elsa admitted. "I've never even touched one."

Anna's brow furrowed. "How did you get through your compulsory without touching a gun?"

"I did mine in the Environment Ministry."

"Oh. Conscientious objection?"

"No, not really. It was just…a better fit for me." Elsa remembered her discomfort, bordering on physical illness, at the thought of living in close quarters with dozens of other people, with no privacy, no place to escape. She couldn't get a service waiver, but one of her university professors had helped her get a position in Forestry and Water Management. She spent her compulsory service year driving around the mountains, monitoring timber companies and testing the river waters.

"Ah. Well, then, I'm going to teach you." Anna started reloading her pistol's magazines.

"Wait, what?"

"Every woman should know how to shoot," Anna said firmly.

"Oh, I don't think - "

"We're totally gonna do this." Anna gave her a little shove toward the shack. "They have safety glasses you can borrow in there. Go on!"

Elsa retrieved a pair of safety glasses from the man in the shack, who seemed a bit put out at having his reading interrupted. When she returned to the tables, Anna handed her a pair of red foam earplugs from the dispenser mounted on one of the support posts. "Put them in like this," Anna instructed, demonstrating with her own earplugs.

When Elsa had her earplugs in place, Anna led her out to one of the pistol lanes and tacked up a fresh target paper. "Okay," she said. "This is a Colt M1911 .45. It's an American-made gun, pretty old model, actually, I have no idea where Eugene got it. It's big, especially compared to my Walther, so you'll need two hands to fire it. On the upside, it's also pretty powerful. You take somebody down with it, and they're gonna stay down."

"O-Okay," Elsa said, her throat bobbing as Anna handed her the pistol. It was heavier than she expected, and she gripped it uncertainly.

Anna showed her how to insert the magazine and release the slide forward, and then showed her how to drop the magazine, clear the gun, and put the safety on. She made Elsa unload, clear, and reload the pistol until she was satisfied that Elsa understood completely.

"Always keep the muzzle pointed down and downrange until you're ready to fire," Anna instructed. "And keep your trigger finger alongside the slide. You're going to dry-fire first so you can get used to how it feels when you pull the trigger. Now, take a two-handed grip, feet about shoulder-width apart…"

She guided Elsa into position, her hands on Elsa's hips. Elsa tried hard to focus on what Anna was saying rather than those hands. She gripped the pistol in her left hand, bringing her right up to wrap around it.

"Steady pressure on the trigger, don't jerk it." Anna's voice was right in her ear, muffled by the earplugs, but reassuring just the same. She pulled the trigger, but it wouldn't move. "Take the safety off," Anna said.

Elsa fumbled with the gun. The safety lever was on the left side of the pistol, and Elsa was unable to reach it without releasing her grip. Anna's hands briefly tightened against her hips, and Elsa heard her say, "These old guns weren't designed with lefty shooters in mind."

She had Elsa experiment with different ways to release the safety, and finally concluded that it was just going to be awkward until Elsa had lots of practice. Then Elsa dry-fired a dozen or so times.

"Ready?" Anna asked, handing Elsa the full magazine and stepping back.

"I-I guess." Elsa inserted the magazine into the pistol and pulled back the slide to chamber a round. She took up her stance, flicked the safety off, and after a deep breath, pulled the trigger. The gun bucked in her hands, much harder than she expected, and she almost dropped it.

She also missed the target completely.

Embarrassed, Elsa tightened her grip and pulled the trigger again. This time she hit the outside edge of the target.

Then Anna was behind her again. "Here, try this." She nudged Elsa's right foot forward a bit. "Relax your shoulders, they shouldn't be up around your ears." She pressed on Elsa's shoulders, then slid her hand along Elsa's right arm. "This hand is the support," she said, adjusting Elsa's grip. "Get a good sight picture and keep both eyes open."

Anna snugged up against her back, her hand still supporting Elsa's. Elsa struggled to focus. She squeezed off another shot. It hit the ground two feet in front of the target. "I'm not very good at this."

Anna scoffed. "You've fired a grand total of three shots. It just takes practice." She slid her other hand around Elsa's waist and pressed gently against her belly. "Tighten your core a bit. It will stabilize your stance."

Elsa swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. Anna was behind her, around her, smelling of sunshine despite the cold, hand hot on Elsa's stomach, voice lilting in her ear. Elsa's head swam. Could Anna be that oblivious to the effect she was having?

 _I should not be handling a firearm while she's touching me. I'm going to shoot myself in the foot._

As if sensing her thoughts, Anna stepped back. "Okay, try again."

Torn between relief and disappointment, Elsa raised the pistol again. She drew a settling breath, and trying to remember everything Anna had shown her, pulled the trigger. She grinned when a hole appeared in the target just off-center. She fired again and again, until the slide locked back on an empty chamber. _Yes!_ All of her shots had hit the target.

"I did it!" she said, swinging around toward Anna.

"Whoa there, Dead-Eye." Anna grabbed her wrist. "Keep it pointed downrange until you've cleared it."

"Sorry!" Elsa pointed the muzzle back downrange. She dropped the empty magazine and checked the chamber like Anna had shown her. When she was sure it was empty, she turned back.

"I knew you could do it," Anna said with a smirk. "Do you want to go again?"

"No, I think that's enough." Elsa handed the weapon to Anna with a little sigh of relief. She doubted she would ever be comfortable shooting. She watched as Anna inserted a fresh magazine, safed the pistol, and shoved it into the holster at the small of her back.

Anna grabbed her backpack and they left the range. They walked back toward town, chatting casually about innocuous topics. Or, rather, Anna chatted and Elsa listened, nodding, interjecting the occasional question, and often outright laughing at Anna's stories ("Well, yeah, I ended up in the fjord, but the kid did get his pig back."). Anna could, and did, flawlessly mimic a number of celebrities and prominent public figures. Her impression of Arendelle's lisping Chancellor had Elsa snorting into her hand.

They stopped at the chocolate shop, where Elsa thought she might have to physically restrain Anna to keep her from ravaging the displays. Giggling, they sampled everything that the owner was willing to let them try. Sadly, Elsa had left her purse at the house, and they had to settle for two hot chocolates, paid for out of Anna's diminishing funds. Elsa made a mental note to return to the shop and buy a big box of the truffles that Anna had admired.

 _Is this what it feels like to have a friend?_ Elsa wondered as they strolled back toward the house, sipping their hot chocolate.

"Elsa, can I ask you a question?" Anna's voice cut into her thoughts.

"I don't know, can you?"

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the smartass here, remember?" Anna bumped her shoulder playfully. "Anyway, it's kind of…personal?"

 _You've seen me mostly naked, not sure you can get much more personal than that_. But Anna seemed a bit nervous, biting her lip and fiddling with one of her braids, and Elsa was suddenly wary. "Go ahead."

"Well, I know you're pretty successful, and you said you've done well, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, um, even with all that…I mean, I know you're probably really good at what you and you're really well-paid, but how do you…this area is kind of known as a playground for the rich, do you really make that much? I mean, I know it's nosy, but how can you afford all this? The property, the house, the art…all that?"

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, that's really rude and none of my business and I shouldn't have asked, but it just seems like…I was just curious."

Elsa studied the younger woman for a moment. Anna kept her eyes straight ahead, occasionally shooting a nervous glance at her. "You're right. I don't earn enough to have bought all this."

Anna's eyebrows shot up.

Elsa went on, "No, everything I have up here, I got the old-fashioned way – I inherited it."

"Wait, what?"

"I inherited it. Oh, I've made some renovations, added a few things here and there, but the house and the property have been in my mother's family for generations."

"Oh." Anna looked…relieved? "I thought maybe…well, never mind what I thought. It's really beautiful."

"It is that," Elsa agreed. "I've often thought of moving up here permanently."

"Kind of isolated, isn't it? Wouldn't you be lonely?"

"There's a difference between solitude and loneliness," Elsa said. "This is probably the one place in the world where I feel completely…." She trailed off, not sure she could explain how she felt when she came to the mountains. Free? Content? No. _Up here, I feel like I can breathe_.

Anna chewed her lip. "If you inherited it from your mother, does that mean she…passed away?"

"Yes. When I was seven."

Anna's hand slipped into hers and squeezed. "I'm sorry. How?"

"She had pancreatic cancer, a particularly aggressive form. It was only a few months from the time she was diagnosed until…." Elsa kept her voice as flat as she could. The whole time had been the most frightening and bewildering of her young life. Mostly what she remembered was standing outside Mama's door, begging to see her, nurses blocking her way. Her mother was in pain, they said. She didn't want Elsa to see her that way, they said. One of Elsa's last memories was Mama surrounded by tubes and screens, bald and skeletal and half out of her mind from pain or narcotics.

Elsa had run. Run and locked herself in her room, and refused to come out. She didn't go to the funeral.

Anna squeezed her hand again. "What about your father?"

Papa's reaction had been, in many ways, even more painful and bewildering than Mama's illness. Instead of pulling his only child closer for comfort, he'd withdrawn, traveling constantly for work and leaving his daughter in the care of a series of nannies and tutors. When he was home, he spent his time staring at the bottom of a whiskey glass. He was never mean or cruel to her, he just wasn't _there_ , even when he was there.

"He..I don't like to talk about him," Elsa said, but then it spilled out anyway. "He…went away. A lot. I think…I think I just reminded him of my mother too much." She hunched her shoulders. "I've never told anyone that before."

Anna gazed at her, eyes filled with sympathy, but she didn't push any further. Instead, she shifted her hold on Elsa's hand to lace their fingers together. Even through the gloves, Elsa could feel the warmth of her hand, and the way Anna's thumb stroked along hers was soothing.

"One more question, if you don't mind?" Anna asked.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"I thought you said the house was owned by a corporation. If you inherited it, then isn't it in your name? If it is, the NPs may be able to find us up here."

"Oh," Elsa said with a small smile. "No, it's owned by a corporation. Several years ago, my trust sold it to LDG Incorporated. Ingrid Larsen was the corporate officer who handled the transaction. LDG holds the deed to the house and surrounding property."

"But isn't that -?"

"I believe the technical term might be 'money laundering,' though I'm not sure it really fits the legal definition. It's a gray area. The purpose was to obscure ownership of the house, not to hide ill-gotten gains. All the fund transfers were legitimate, even though I was essentially paying myself for the house. I suppose that fraud could be applied. LDG is a shell, but existent. Ingrid Larsen exists only on paper. It's not exactly something I've discussed with my attorney."

Anna just stared at her.

"What?" Elsa asked.

Anna shook her head. "Nothing." They were approaching the gate to Elsa's property. "What kind of renovations did you do?"

"Mostly just modernizing. I updated the wiring and plumbing, installed solar panels, things like that. Replaced appliances, and the carpet, and most of the hardwood floors."

Anna paused at the gate and looked up at the house. "Well, it's really beautiful," she said again. "I can see how you would want to live here all the time." Her eyes dropped to their intertwined hands, and she lifted them up, using her free hand to stroke gently along Elsa's fingers. "But it's kind of big for just one person?"

Elsa trembled, letting her eyes drift shut. When she opened them, she met Anna's blue-green gaze, and her pulse skittered. It was just so… _intense_. The air seemed charged. Anna's eyes flicked down to her lips, and for a moment, Elsa wondered if she might lean in and kiss her. The thought left her a little light-headed.

Then Anna's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Whoops," Anna said with an embarrassed giggle. "Haven't eaten a real meal today."

The moment passed, and Elsa let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "No wonder you were ready to pillage the chocolate shop," she said. "I can make us some dinner, if you like."

"You cook?"

"Don't sound so surprised. A woman can't live on takeout alone."

"Sounds great to me. I make a killer sandwich, but that's about the extent of my kitchen skills." Anna tugged her up the path toward the house.

"It will be an early dinner. Anything do you want to do after that?"

"Netflix and chill?"

"I don't have Netflix, but I suppose I can sign up."

Anna burst into laughter. "No," she choked out, "don't do that."

Elsa frowned. Had she missed something? "Are you sure? I have a lot of channels on my TV services, but I'll sign up for Netflix if you really want."

Anna snorted, her eyes dancing with mirth. "As much as I would love it…you'd need to use a credit card, and we definitely can't afford that."

"I didn't think about that."

"Besides," Anna said, sobering a little, "we still need to have that talk."

Back to trust. She thought she trusted Anna. But suddenly she wasn't sure she trusted herself.

"Elsa?"

She looked back into those eyes. _Right. Trust_. "All right. Dinner, and then we'll talk."

* * *

 _A/N: Happy Holidays to everyone! This story just picked up its 100th follower, so Merry Christmas to me. *g* Thanks to everyone who's reading, and especially those who've reviewed!_


	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer: Frozen = Disney's_

* * *

Kristoff was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. The caller ID showed that it came from a Headquarters number, so he let it go to voicemail, too buried in paperwork to want the interruption. It rang itself out, and after about thirty seconds of silence, his cell phone started buzzing. Same Headquarters number. With a frustrated grunt, Kristoff swiped his thumb across the screen.

"Bjorgman," he growled.

It was Lieutenant Sinclair. He'd never heard her voice quite as cold as it was when she ordered him to report immediately to the Headquarters Building. She would not tell him why. A ball of ice seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach as he went down the stairs to the parking garage. He could handle Sinclair's temper, but her frigid calm did not bode well. What the hell was going on?

He had just pulled out of the parking garage when his phone buzzed again. This time it was Bulda. Kristoff grabbed at the phone. His adoptive mother rarely called him during the work day.

"What's going on, Ma?" he said, praying there was nothing wrong with Grandpabbie.

"Kristoff, did you transfer money to Grandpabbie's bank account?"

"No, why?"

"Because I'm looking at his balance right now and it says there's over fifty thousand kroners in it."

"What?!" Kristoff swerved into oncoming traffic. Horns blared. "Shit!" he swore as he yanked the wheel, narrowly avoiding a delivery truck.

"Language!"

"Sorry, Ma. Where did all that money come from? I know his pension payments get screwed up sometimes, but it's never been that bad."

He heard a keyboard clacking, and suppressed a sigh. Bulda didn't hunt and peck when she typed; she searched and destroyed, and Kristoff wondered how long it would be until he had to replace the laptop. Again.

"It came from wire transfers. Two of them, for twenty-five thousand each. But they're not from the Pension Fund."

"Then where - ?" _Oh, shit_. Sinclair's phone call. His stomach sank. He had power of attorney over Grandpabbie's accounts. Whatever was happening here, there was no way it would ever look innocent. Kristoff wondered if it was time to rethink his skepticism about conspiracies.

He pulled into the parking garage at the Headquarters building, feeling like he was heading to his professional execution.

The conference room was small and windowless. Lieutenant Sinclair was there, along with Captain Chifu. Chifu sat at the head of the table, fingering his scraggy moustache, ever-present notebook in front of him. There were two other people present as well. Kristoff recognized the man as a senior investigator from OPE; the woman was a NP lawyer.

"Sit down, Inspector," Sinclair said, fixing him with a cold stare.

Kristoff sat. He hadn't done anything wrong, so why did he feel like he'd just been busted robbing the Royal Treasury? He rubbed his palms on his trouser legs.

"We have some things to discuss with you, Inspector," Chifu said. "But before we begin, you may want to consider having counsel present. It is your right."

Kristoff shot a glance at the NP lawyer. She was here on behalf of the department, and she would not be on his side. How had they found out about the money so quickly? He wondered about the timing of Sinclair's call. She knew about the money before Bulda. It was just dumb luck that Bulda had decided to check Grandpabbie's account this afternoon, or Kristoff would have walked into this meeting completely blind.

"Why would I need counsel?" he asked carefully.

"We received a phone call from your bank," Chifu said. "A very troubling phone call."

Kristoff's mind raced. Why had the bank called the National Police directly? Deposits over ten thousand kroners required a report to the Arendelle Tax Administration, but did not usually trigger a call to law enforcement.

He didn't try to look surprised. It would seem forced, and that might make him look even guiltier in their eyes. "Yeah. Well, on the way over here, I got a call from my mother about the money. She had just checked my grandfather's account. That was the first I've heard about it. Believe me, I have no idea where that money came from."

Sinclair gave him a dubious frown. "So you're saying that fifty thousand kroners just appeared in your grandfather's account, an account that you control with a full power of attorney, and it's a mistake? That's a hell of a bank error in your favor, Inspector."

"I don't know what to think, Lieutenant. Like I said, I didn't know anything about it until my mother called me. But I am going to find out."

"The timing is very troubling for us."

"Not as troubling as it is for me. It's my career, my reputation that's on the line here."

"Quite frankly, we're more concerned about the department's reputation," Chifu sneered.

Kristoff glared at him, then turned back to Sinclair. "I don't know what's going on, but feel free to investigate. I don't have anything to hide."

Chifu tugged his moustache and looked down at a file in front of him. "Are you sure about that?"

Kristoff tried to keep his temper in check. It was a classic interrogation technique. Bluff the suspect by hinting that you had incriminating evidence that would catch him in lie, and hope that he caved. He'd used the technique himself on many occasions. But was Chifu bluffing? He didn't know.

So this was what is was like to be on the other side of the table. It sucked.

"Am I sure about what?" he said, trying to buy some time.

"That you have nothing to hide."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go ahead and check it out."

Chifu tapped the file with his pen. "You know what really bothers me, Inspector? What really bothers me is that on the night of Persie Norberg's murder, he had taken your place escorting Elsa Kjarensen. At your orders. If not for those orders, he would be alive today. Would you?"

Kristoff shot to his feet, looming over Chifu. "Are you accusing me of being involved in Persie's murder?"

Chifu shrank back. Sinclair jabbed her finger at the chair. "Sit down, Inspector," she ordered.

Kristoff ignored her, his gaze boring into Chifu's. "Are you?" He clenched his fists to keep from wrapping his hands around the captain's chicken neck.

"I said, sit _down_ , Inspector," Sinclair ordered again. Kristoff slowly lowered himself into the chair, not taking his eyes off Chifu's.

"I'm saying that the coincidence, if it is a coincidence, has me concerned," Chifu said.

"It _was_ a coincidence. How was I supposed to know someone was waiting in the woods to kill him and Elsa?" Kristoff flattened his hands on the tabletop. "If you remember, I wasn't that far behind them."

"Another coincidence, or just good timing?" Chifu asked. "Convenient that you _almost_ got there in time to stop it. Maybe too convenient."

Kristoff took a settling breath. Losing his temper would not help. "I was working another case, and got done sooner than expected. Kai can corroborate that."

"We plan on talking to Agent Haugland," Sinclair said. "You're friends, aren't you?"

"We're colleagues," Kristoff said. "He and Persie were friends. He'll tell you the truth."

"So you're saying there's no connection between Agent Norberg's murder and your sudden enrichment?"

"Let me go a little further than that, Lieutenant. I'm saying that it's a steaming pile of shit. If I was guilty, why would I be stupid enough to have someone put fifty grand into one of my accounts right after it happened? That's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

"But it's not really your account, Inspector," Chifu said. "It's your grandfather's, is it not? But you have control over it. And according to your personnel file, you're not due for a five-year background check for another year. I'm sure the money would have been transferred out by that time. If the bank hadn't called us, no one would have ever known. So it's not really that obvious, is it?"

"And you don't think it's weird that the bank called the department? Large deposits usually trigger reports to the Tax Administration, not the National Police."

"Perhaps the bank got suspicious," Chifu said.

"Maybe someone at the bank screwed up, and is trying to keep from getting fired," Kristoff countered. "And if it's not a mistake, then someone is setting me up."

"And who, exactly, would be trying to that?"

"Whoever killed Persie, and tried to kill Elsa Kjarensen. Maybe he thought I was getting too close."

"So you think Agdar Erikksen is setting you up?" Sinclair asked.

Kristoff glanced at the lawyer and the OPE investigator. "Are they cleared for this?"

"These charges have taken priority over your investigation," Chifu said.

"Charges?" Kristoff growled. "They're not charges, they're unsubstantiated bullshit!"

Sinclair flipped open a file. "Is your private investigation into Persie Norberg's finances bullshit as well?"

Kristoff deflated. He slumped back in his chair and wiped his palms on his trousers, trying to get his emotions under control. Chifu looked pleased at his obvious distress.

"We talked to Aggie Norberg," Sinclair said. "I can't even count the number of department regulations you've violated."

"I was trying to protect Persie's family. I was going to go to OPE, but not until after the funeral."

"Oh, how very honorable of you," Chifu said sarcastically.

"Fuck you, Chifu."

"Watch your language, Inspector Bjorgman," Sinclair ordered.

Kristoff ran his hand through his hair. "Can I ask how you found out? Did Aggie Norberg come to you?"

"We're asking the questions, Inspector," Sinclair said. She laced her fingers together and leaned forward onto her forearms. "What did you find in the safe-deposit box?"

"Cash. A lot of cash. Thousands."

"And the Norberg's financial records?"

"Unexplained income. The cash was not reported to the Tax Administration. The Norbergs pay for everything in cash. No credit cards or mortgage."

"We also talked to Elise Hegerberg at the bank branch you visited. She said you told her not to let anyone but you into that safe-deposit box. And Aggie Norberg told us that you instructed her not to tell anyone about it, not even Agent Haugland."

"The money was material evidence," Kristoff protested. "I didn't want anyone getting to it. And I told Aggie to keep it quiet for her own protection, until I had a chance to dig and find out who was going on."

"Or did you want the money for yourself? You didn't tell Aggie Norberg about the cash. With Persie dead, you were the only one who knew it was there." Sinclair's cold blue eyes bored into his.

"And it's interesting that right after Norberg is killed, you access a box of cash he kept under a false identity, and about the same time, your account balance goes up by fifty thousand kroners," Chifu added.

"If you're trying to say I had Persie killed for the cash in the box, then you need to share what you're smoking," Kristoff said hotly. "Aggie Norberg called _me_. She found the account statement. I had no idea there was a safe-deposit box until she told me. I didn't know about any of it until after Persie was dead."

"That's what you say," Chifu said.

"That's what I know," Kristoff retorted. He turned away from Chifu and addressed Sinclair. "Are you going to charge me with something?"

She closed the file folder and studied him with her icy blue gaze. "This looks very, very bad, Inspector Bjorgman. Surely you can see that. If you were looking at it from my side of the table, what would you conclude?"

"Lieutenant, I know it looks bad. Okay, it looks really bad. But please, just give me a chance to check it - "

Sinclair stood. "You're suspended, Inspector Bjorgman. Effective immediately."

Kristoff sucked in a breath. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Suspended? How can you suspend me? You haven't formally charged me. You don't even have specific evidence that I did anything wrong!"

"You should be grateful it's not worse," Chifu piped up.

"Shut your pie hole, Chifu," Kristoff flared. Chifu opened his mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it when he saw Kristoff's clenched fists and red face. "Lieutenant, please," Kristoff said to Sinclair. "I understand if you take me off this case. Transfer me to another division while you investigate, but don't suspend me. Everyone in the department will assume that I'm guilty. It's not fair."

Sinclair's expression hardened. "Turn your sidearm and credentials over to Captain Chifu. Do not go back to your office. And do not leave the area for any reason."

Kristoff slumped over the table, nauseous and light-headed.

Sinclair went on, "I don't have the option of merely reassigning you, Inspector Bjorgman. Your mishandling of the Kjarensen case and your suspicious actions surrounding the cash and the Norberg's finances make that impossible. Not to mention Persie's murder and reports of multiple unknown people impersonating National Police agents. If you're innocent, you'll be reinstated with no loss of pay, seniority, or responsibility. And I will make damn sure that there's no permanent damage to your reputation." She walked to the door of the conference room. "But if you're guilty, God help you. You probably can guess what's in store for you."

She opened the door and left. Kristoff started to follow, but Chifu blocked his way.

"Creds and sidearm, if you please, Inspector. Now."

Kristoff slipped them out and handed them over, feeling like he had lopped off a body part. His belt and shoulder holster felt unnaturally light. Chifu wore a triumphant smirk, and it was all Kristoff could do not to sink his fist into those smug features.

"Try not to look like you're enjoying this so much, Chifu. That way you won't look like a complete asshole when I'm cleared."

"Cleared? You're lucky you're not already under arrest. We want this to be airtight, since it involves one of our own, but you could be in jail by the end of the day. We'll be watching, so don't even think about running."

"No way I'm running. I want to see your face when I come to get my creds and gun back. Don't worry, I won't tell you to suck my dick."

Kristoff shouldered his way past Chifu. He walked down the hallway, through the lobby, and out of the building, feeling as though every single person in the Arendelle National Police was watching him and judging.

* * *

It was all Kai could do to keep the contempt off his face as Chifu leaned across the table and spoke in a low voice.

"We have every reason to think he's in on it, Agent Haugland."

Kai kept his face expressionless. He despised everything about Chifu, from his wispy moustache and nasally voice down to his ever-present notebook and baggy suit. He'd been sitting in the conference room with Sinclair and Chifu for almost an hour, telling his side of the story and listening to theirs. It was unlikely that they would find any common ground.

"That's complete rubbish, Captain."

"How can you keep defending him now that you've heard all the evidence?" Chifu's voice had become increasingly shrill over the course of the meeting.

"Because he's innocent."

Sinclair cut in. "Do you have any facts to back that up?"

"We've been over the facts, Lieutenant. We had a pressing lead in that Energy case that we had to check. He wanted to put off the meet until he could be available, but it didn't fit with Kjarensen's schedule. So he asked Persie to go."

"Or so he told you," Sinclair countered.

"I was there when he talked to Persie. I've been doing this for over twenty-five years, Lieutenant. Trust me, Kristoff Bjorgman is as clean as they come."

"He investigated Persie Norberg's personal finances without permission."

"Is that all you have? It's not the first time an agent has deviated from the book. He got some hot information and wanted to follow it up, but didn't want to destroy Persie's reputation without being absolutely certain."

"And the fifty thousand kroners in his grandfather's account?"

"Planted, I'm certain."

"By whom?"

"That's what we have to figure out."

Chifu slapped his hand on the table. "We're going to have him followed until we break this!"

Kai leaned forward. The tie dangling from Chifu's neck looked so tempting. He could picture his hands grasping it and tightening until the captain's rodent-like face turned purple.

Instead, he pressed a finger into the tabletop. "What we should be doing, Captain, is following up the leads from Persie's murder. And trying to find Elsa Kjarensen."

"We're running the investigation, Agent Haugland," Chifu sniffed. "We'll decide what needs to be done."

Kai turned to Sinclair. "If you want a tail on Kristoff, then I'll do it."

"Absolutely not!" Chifu screeched.

Kai ignored him. "I know things might look bad for him, Lieutenant, but I also know there's not a finer young agent in the department. Don't forget, he unearthed this whole corruption scheme of Erikksen's. I don't want to see a promising career ruined because someone made a poor decision. I've been down that path myself."

He turned a withering gaze on Chifu. "Isn't that right, Captain?"

Chifu seemed to shrink in his chair. Kai gave him a small smile. Chifu turned to Sinclair. "We need an unbiased source, Lieutenant Sinclair."

"I can be independent," Kai said. "If I'm wrong, then Kristoff goes down, and I will be the one who breaks the news to him. And puts the cuffs on him, if it comes to that. But I'll wager that he will be coming back in here to get his creds and sidearm. He's got a bright future. He may be running this whole place in fifteen years."

"Besides," he went on, glaring at Chifu, "I think someone owes me that."

Sinclair just looked back and forth at the two men. The room was deadly silent. After a few minutes, Sinclair seemed to visibly make up her mind.

"Okay, Kai, you follow him," Sinclair said. She ignored Chifu's protests. "Report directly to me on a daily basis. Just the facts. What you see, no more and no less."

Kai shot a triumphant look at Chifu as he rose from the table. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Lieutenant."

Chifu followed Kai from the conference room into the hallway. "I don't know what you think you just got away with in there, Agent Haugland, but you should keep in mind that your career already has a black mark. You can't afford another one. I want to know everything that you report to Lieutenant Sinclair."

Kai crowded the much smaller Chifu against the wall. "Listen to me, _Jan_." He paused, straightening Chifu's tie. "Technically, you're the superior officer here. But let's not confuse that with reality." He tightened the tie, sliding the knot up to the base of Chifu's skinny neck.

Chifu's throat bobbed. "You're playing a dangerous game, Agent Haugland."

"I'm fine with danger, Jan, that's why I'm an NP. That's why I carry a gun. I've killed a man with mine. Have you?" He leaned heavily into the smaller man. "Someone is setting Kristoff up, trying to discredit him. Who would do such a thing? Maybe the person who leaked the information on the Kjarensen case? And it seems to me that you're trying very hard to make him look bad."

"Are you accusing me of being the leak?!"

"No. I'm simply reminding you that until we do find the leak, no one is above suspicion. That includes everyone from the director-general down to the crew that empties the waste bins."

He patted Chifu's cheek and pushed away from him, smiling slightly at the fear in the other man's eyes.

"Have a pleasant evening, Captain. I'm off to do some real police work."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Frozen is Disney's, yadda, yadda, yadda...

* * *

"You're going to cut your fingers off if you're not careful."

Anna looked up from where she was attempting to chop vegetables for dinner. Elsa's tablet, propped on the counter beside the cutting board, showed a video demonstrating chopping techniques.

"I'm doing it like the video, I think?" Anna swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. How had she managed to get carrot bits on her face?

"Not quite," Elsa said. "And it's not a good idea to wipe your face with the hand that's holding the knife."

"Oh, crap." Anna hastily put the knife down on the cutting board, then grabbed a towel and wiped her face. "So what am I doing wrong? I thought I was imitating Colette here." She waved at the tablet.

"Superficially, yes, you were," Elsa said. "If you did that on her show, though, she'd probably eject you from the kitchen with your ears on fire from her profanity."

"You watch The Bitch's Cauldron?"

"Oh, yes. Colette's a wonderful chef, despite her combative personality."

Anna restarted the video, and took up the knife to try again. She'd only cut a few pieces when Elsa's hand covered hers. "Here, let me show you."

Anna closed her eyes, her heartrate jumping when cool fingers slid over hers, adjusting her grip on the knife. When she opened them, she inhaled sharply. Elsa's face was right there, close enough to see the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, to detect hints of mint and pine. Her eyes were as clear and blue as a mountain lake, her lips slightly parted. All Anna would have to do was lean in just a bit…

"This isn't really a great video," Elsa said, drawing back a little. "She shows you the motions, but doesn't explain the details. Probably because she's internalized them from so much repetition." She took Anna's left hand and curled her fingers under a bit. "Keep your knuckles in contact with the blade. It will help guide it while keeping you from slicing your fingertips off."

She guided Anna through a few repetitions, then withdrew her hands. Anna stifled a sigh and started chopping.

It was still slow going. She'd finished only the carrots by the time Elsa was done prepping the fish, and there were still onions and celery left to chop. Elsa nudged her out of the way, taking the knife.

"Hey, I was just starting to get the hang of it!"

"Yes, but you do want to actually eat sometime this evening, right?" Elsa laughed when Anna's stomach growled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Traitor," Anna grumbled at her belly. "Is there something else I can do to help?"

Elsa probably didn't need help, she looked like she had everything well in hand, but at least that would give Anna something to do besides gawk at her. Which she had found herself doing a lot today. Elsa just seemed more…comfortable? Maybe it was just because they were relatively safe, at least for now, but it was like something had taken the starch out of her. Her posture seemed more relaxed. She even walked a little differently. It was a walk that Anna could get used to watching.

Anna wasn't sure what had triggered it, but she sure liked the change.

"Anna?"

"What?" _Shit, was I staring again?_ Elsa was giving her a lopsided little smile, and Anna felt her cheeks get hot.

"You could get us some wine. There's a cooler under the bar. Out in the great room."

"Sure. What kind?"

"Any of the whites will be good with this."

Anna went out to the bar and found the built-in wine cooler under it. She knew zilch about wine, so she picked a type she recognized, a chardonnay. Curious, she opened the small fridge next to the cooler. It was filled with beer. The cabinets held glassware and a wide variety of spirits. The only place Anna had seen this much booze outside a bar was at her ex's place.

 _What the hell made me think about_ him _?_ Aggravated with herself, she almost slammed the cabinet shut.

She went back to the kitchen, where Elsa had just put the fish into the oven and was wrapping bread in foil. Anna found a corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring a glass for each of them. Then she set the table, wondering why Elsa needed a ten-seat dining table when it was just her.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated at the table. Anna clinked her glass against Elsa's. "To a successful day, which I guess is now a day where no one is chasing us or trying to kill us."

Elsa's smile looked forced, and Anna wanted to kick herself. _Jesus. Foot, meet mouth_. They ate quietly, silence broken only by Anna's gushing compliments on the meal. It was incredible.

Anna finished her dinner and exhaled in appreciation. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know, can you?" Elsa smirked at her over the rim of her wine glass.

"Your inner wiseass is showing."

"What's that about it taking one to know one?" Anna stuck her tongue out and Elsa laughed. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you have so much food and booze here if it's usually just you?"

"Oaken – my caretaker – also runs a business supplying the resorts around here. He doesn't seem to know the difference between stocking my house and stocking a resort." Elsa chuckled. "Of course, I think he also charges me resort prices. At least we won't go hungry."

"Not for at least a year."

"My turn. Why have you not learned to cook?"

Anna shrugged. "Never got around to it, I guess. I work a lot of odd hours, so it's easier just to grab food from a street cart or make sandwiches to carry along. And Olaf's mom kind of spoils me. I probably eat dinner with them two or three times a week."

"That's nice." Elsa sounded a bit wistful.

Anna insisted on cleaning up the kitchen, and sent Elsa to check the news on TV. When she was finished, she refilled their wine glasses and took them to the great room to join Elsa.

"Did we make the news?"

"No. Nothing at all, which I find very odd. You would think the murder of a National Police agent would make the news, but there's nothing about that either."

Anna wondered how long this reprieve would last. It was nice to think that they might be able to stay here for a while, but they needed to be prepared for what might be coming. And in Anna's mind, that meant getting the full story. She handed Elsa's wine glass to her.

"We've had an awesome meal, and we're about as chill as we're going to get. We need to talk."

Elsa's face fell. She swirled her wine glass, staring into the liquid like she was waiting for it to speak to her. Finally, she looked up, her face full of uncertainty. Anna frowned, wondering if Elsa was going to renege on their agreement. Suddenly irritated, she said, "Come on, Elsa, you promised."

"Did I?" Elsa asked softly.

Well, no, Elsa hadn't actually _promised_ , but… "Elsa, please, I need to know what's going on. I thought we agreed to trust each other."

Elsa gave her a small nod. "Let's go for a walk."

 _What?_ Anna started to protest, then thought better of it. If going for a walk was what it took to get Elsa talking, well, then, that's what they'd do.

They bundled up and went outside, taking a path that wound around the perimeter of the property. The sun had already dropped halfway behind the mountains, casting brilliant shafts of pink and orange across the landscape. Up here, the air was crisp and clear. No odors of exhaust or trash or dust. Except for the wind, it was quiet. No blaring horns, no rattling trams, no shouting people. No people, period. It was…peaceful.

They stopped at a small pond, the edges of which had iced over. Anna glanced at Elsa. The other woman stood with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, almost like she was drawing energy from the cold air. She seemed to sense Anna watching her, and opened her eyes. "Where would you like to start?" she asked.

"How about the beginning?"

"Are you ready to spill your secrets too?"

"What are you talking about? I don't have any secrets."

Elsa used the toe of her shoe to draw the letters _A_ and _E_ in the snow on the bank of the pond. "Agdar Erikksen. What do you really know about him?"

Anna's forehead wrinkled. "Just what I told you. He's your partner. And kind of like your mentor, I'm guessing, from what you've said about him."

Elsa swept the letters away with the bottom of her shoe. "He's also the man who hired you."

"Wait, what?"

"Agdar hired you," Elsa repeated.

"What do you mean? I told you, I don't know who hired me."

Elsa looked at her, her blue eyes sharp on Anna's. "Yes. That's what you _told_ me."

"Because it's true. How do you know he hired me?"

"When you took Marshmallow to Olaf's yesterday morning – God, was it really just _yesterday_? – Agdar called you and left a message. He wanted to know where I was, what you had found out about me. He left a number for you to call him back. He sounded quite distraught."

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I've talked to him almost every day for the past five years. I know his voice."

Anna couldn't find her own voice for a moment. Was Erikksen really her anonymous client? She shot a look at Elsa, whose tight posture and unapproachable air had returned. Had Anna lost all the ground she'd gained with her? She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat. "I didn't know, Elsa, I swear." She studied her feet. "I guess that's why you tried to ditch me at the airport, huh? You don't trust me."

That idea hurt more than it should have.

Elsa touched her arm. "I do trust you, Anna. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't, considering that you carry a gun and are still mostly a stranger to me."

Anna let her shoulders slump. "I was just hired to follow you. That's all. I swear."

She lifted her eyes to find Elsa giving her an appraising look.

"Do you not try to find out if your client or his intentions are legitimate before you accept a job?" Elsa asked.

Anna started to protest, but stopped herself. It was a reasonable question. The truth was, she had needed the cash. Business had been a little slow and the mess with her ex had left her in a tight spot financially. And the file that Erikksen sent her had included a photo of Elsa. Even then, she'd found Elsa appealing, she realized, a feeling that had only gotten stronger since they'd met.

"Normally I do like to meet with a client before I agree to a job. You know, to get a feel for him and his agenda."

"But not in my case? You just took the money and started following me?"

"I didn't see any harm in just following you," she said, a little lamely.

"Even though your client could have been using you to get to me." Elsa's tone held a faint accusation.

"Well, you weren't exactly in hiding, were you?" Anna snapped. "I told you, I thought you were having an affair. I knew when I went in the cabin that wasn't the case. And the rest of the night just made that more clear. That's still all I know. And you said you would tell me everything."

Elsa turned away from her and stared out over the pond, arms wrapped around her middle. She was as still as a statue, and after several minutes, Anna said nervously, "Elsa?"

Elsa glanced at her and said, "Let's go back to the house."

* * *

Elsa built a fire in the great room, then picked up her wine glass and settled at one end of the long couch, tucking her long legs under her. Anna took her own glass and sat cross-legged at the opposite end.

"How old are you, Anna?"

"Twenty-one," Anna replied, surprised by the question.

"When was the last time you voted?"

"Um…never?" She saw Elsa frown slightly, and felt a little embarrassed. Voting was another one of those things that she never seemed to get around to doing. "Why?"

Elsa stared through the picture window. "Most people think we live in a democracy, but we don't, not really. Most people, like you, aren't political animals. Effective, long-term power really comes from the subtle rule of the few over the many."

Anna furrowed her brow, not sure she was following. "But we elect our councilors."

Elsa nodded. "The people who vote, yes, they do. But the amount of money floating around the political system, and the way that it's applied, takes most of the choice away from even those who bother to vote. The candidates are carefully groomed and financed in a way that almost guarantees their success."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Elsa shifted in her seat. "The government of Arendelle is like the biggest pie in the country, and everyone wants a slice. But to get your slice, you have to know who controls the knife and go through them.

"That's where Agdar and I come in. Well, Agdar mostly. He's spent years working the system. Our clients tell us what they want, and we go to the knife wielders to convince them that what our clients want is in their best interest."

"Don't you mean in Arendelle's best interest?" Anna asked. She wasn't sure she liked where this was headed.

"I wish that's what I meant," Elsa said wearily. "But politicians tend to see things through the prism of their own self-interests. The trick is to help them rationalize that their interests and the country's interests are one and the same."

"That's…depressing," Anna said. She'd taken civics in school, and knew basically how the government was supposed to function, but Elsa seemed to be saying that there was whole shadow system that really ran things in Arendelle.

"It is, when you really think about it." Elsa sipped her wine. "Agdar was the best in the business at helping members of the Nasjonsting see the alignment of his clients' interests with their own. He's probably forgotten more about how the legislative process works than most councilors ever learn. And now he has another skill: he can guarantee the future."

"What?!" Anna choked on her wine. "How?"

"He who controls the knife hand controls how the pie is sliced."

The gears turned in Anna's brain. Was Elsa saying what she thought she was saying? "So…he's paying off people in the Nasjonsting?"

"Yes. And in the Royal agencies. In an incredibly sophisticated way."

"You mean like keeping councilors on a dirty payroll? Something like that?"

"Actually, they do it for free."

"For free?"

"At least while they're in office. When they leave, that's when the payoffs start. Agdar has 'retirement plans' lined up for them. Do-nothing jobs with large salaries in companies he's set up. Lucrative investment portfolios. When these people quit their government jobs, they'll make a few phone calls, take a few meetings, and that's about it. They can fish all day, or play golf, or whatever they want, and get paid handsomely for it. But they do Agdar's bidding while they're in office, and the longer they do it, the more they get paid later. And since they wait until they're out of office, their chances of being caught are next to zero."

Anna just gaped at her. She had experience with low-level sleaze, the cops who took cash and looked the other way when drug deals went down, the juvie supervisors who traded special privileges for sexual favors. But Elsa was talking about corruption on a national scale. The kind of thing that could rock Arendelle to its foundations.

"Holy shit, Elsa, are we talking about military secrets or something? Is that how you guys made all your money?"

A sad smile flitted across Elsa's face. "No, actually, our biggest client can't even pay us."

"Huh?"

"Our client is Arendelle herself."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused."

Elsa say up a little straighter and looked directly at her. "Arendelle. Our mountains, our fjord, our people, our _country_. The government no longer responds to citizens and their needs. It hasn't for years. It responds to big business and special interests, and the wealthy who fill the coffers of political candidates. Ordinary citizens don't go to fundraisers where rubbery chicken is served at a thousand kroners a plate. So industry pollutes our air and dumps toxins in our water because there's no one speaking for _Arendelle_.

"These companies, they claim that cleanup and reform will cost jobs, but mainly it just costs profits. The sad thing is that for all their intelligence, most of these powerful people refuse to look past their next quarterly earnings statement. They refuse to see that the changes we're trying to make will benefit everyone in the long run."

Anna just stared at her for several moments while she turned everything over in her head. Then she said, "So let me get this straight: Agdar Erikksen is bribing members of the Nasjonsting to pass _environmental reform_ legislation?"

"Yes," Elsa said simply. "But it's more than just the environment. It's also riders to mitigate the impact that these problems have on our people, especially our most vulnerable. Did you know that Northern International's last oil spill rendered seventy-five percent of the fish in our mariculture industry inconsumable? Dozens of farms shut down, which put people out of work. The price of whitefish, a basic food commodity, skyrocketed. People, _children_ , went _hungry_ because of that, Anna. And the Arendelle taxpayers ended up footing the bill for the clean-up because of a sweetheart deal that their CEO made in the Nasjonsting."

Anna listened, fascinated. This was an Elsa she hadn't seen, passionate and intense. The woman in front of her wasn't cool and reserved, but compelling and charismatic. A little thrill ran down her spine. She wondered if Agdar Erikksen's bribery was even necessary.

"But then how do you make your money?" she asked. "I mean, you're not exactly living in a lakeside shack."

"Oh, we still have some regular paying clients. We also work with a handful of groups, like Environmental Defense and the Conservation Institute," Elsa said. "They pay us a nominal consulting fee, and we work with them to turn their expertise and ideas into credible legislative proposals for the Nasjonsting."

"Then how does Erikksen fund his retirement plans?"

"Out of his own pocket."

"Whoa. He must have deep pockets"

"Not as deep as they once were. He pays a lot of our business expenses out of his own pocket, and he's running out of money. He will probably sell his house, and he wanted me to concentrate on finding more paying clients. I offered to sell my townhouse, but he said no. He doesn't know it, but I funnel money from my trust into the portfolios. I even thought about selling this place, but now I'm glad that I didn't."

Anna took a big gulp of her wine, and asked the question that had been niggling at her since Elsa first revealed Erikksen's scheme: "Did you know? When you started working for him, did you know he was bribing people?"

"Not at first. He let me find my feet, to become effective on my own merits first." She let out a mirthless chuckle. "I'd been working with him for about six months, and was ranting about one of my meetings, with a particularly intransigent councilor. Agdar just laughed and told me not to worry about him, that the councilor was completely onboard with us. Then he told me everything. He said he wanted me to go into this with my eyes wide open."

"Elsa, do you hear what you're saying? That you went into bribery and public corruption with your eyes wide open?"

Elsa fixed her with an icy glare. "So I should have just remained blissful in my ignorance and let the country suffer? What Agdar and I are doing is no different from what Northern International and dozens of other corporations have been doing for the last twenty years. We've just now started to beat them at their own game."

Anna felt like a little piece inside of her had cracked. Somehow, she'd thought Elsa should be…above that. _But they're bribing people with their own money, for_ Arendelle. She shoved the thought aside. Elsa had not been truthful with her. Elsa had _insisted_ that she wasn't a criminal. "That doesn't make it _right_. It's still corruption. You were breaking the law."

"You're hardly one to talk about breaking the law."

Anna shivered. She could've sworn that the room's temperature dropped about twenty degrees. But that didn't keep her temper from flaring. "Well, if you thought what you were doing was so honorable, why were you helping the National Police?!"

Elsa seemed to crumple before her eyes. She turned away from Anna, her shoulders curled in, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Anna's anger melted away at her obvious distress. When Elsa finally looked up again, the misery on her face made Anna's chest ache.

"Agdar changed. He started pulling away, he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't tell me what he was working on. I thought someone was onto us, and that frightened me. I kept asking him about it, and he kept withdrawing. Finally, he told me that he wanted me to leave his firm. I felt so alone. It was like losing my father all over again."

Anna slid closer to her, but Elsa shrank back. Anna watched, feeling a little helpless, as Elsa composed herself. "So…you went to the NPs to cut a deal?" she asked.

"Yes. I thought that if they were onto us, cooperation might make things go easier. Immunity in exchange for testimony. So I called them, and talked to an agent named Kristoff Bjorgman."

"The big blond guy?"

"Yes. The NPs were incredibly excited about it. But I had the leverage. They needed a live witness with knowledge of names, dates, meetings, and votes in order to prosecute."

"So the deal was you for Erikksen?"

"No!" Elsa said fiercely. "I wanted to bring Agdar in, too. Immunity for both of us. We would testify against the people we paid off. They don't care about the issues, just about the money. They don't give a damn about the kids living next to a poisonous creek because we don't hold the polluters accountable. They think they're entitled, that it's their _due_. Hell, we were bribing some bureaucrats just to get them to do their fucking jobs."

Anna flinched; it was the first time she'd heard Elsa really curse. "Did Erikksen know you wanted to bring him in, too?"

"I guess not, since he tried to have me killed." Elsa's face looked desolate.

Anna wasn't so sure. "Do you really think it was him? Why would he try to kill you?"

"I…I don't know. We were more than partners, really. He was the closest thing I'd had to a father in years. If he found out that I went to the NPs, he would think I betrayed him. Maybe that pushed him over the edge." Elsa hung her head, her hands wringing together in her lap.

Anna slid closer and touched her shoulder. "I don't think it was him."

Elsa's head jerked up. "What? Why?"

"Well, for one thing, I haven't reported to him since everything went down at the cabin. The one report I made earlier just said that I thought you were having an affair. So unless he had someone else working for him, he doesn't know you were talking to the NPs." Anna got up and paced. "For another, the guy that killed the NP, he was using a suppressed rifle. Not your everyday hunting weapon, and you can't just walk into a sporting goods store and buy a suppressor. I think it might have been a professional hit. That's not the type of person you keep on speed dial. It would take some time to set it up."

"But what if he had already hired someone, and planned to set you up for it?"

Anna shook her head. "He had no way of knowing I'd be at the cabin that night. I wasn't telling him my daily movements. And there's no way anyone could have followed me through the woods without me knowing it. No, I don't think it was him."

Elsa turned frightened blue eyes on her. "Then that means…"

Anna swallowed. "Someone else is trying to kill you. Someone who wants to keep you from talking to the NPs. And from what you've told me…that could be a lot of people. Powerful people."

Elsa stood up abruptly, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. She drained her wine glass and set it on the mantle, then curled into herself as she stared into the fire. Anna longed to hug her, to hold her close and tell her that everything would be okay. But she held back, unsure of how Elsa would react. She rubbed her arms. Despite the roaring fire, the room felt chilly.

She took their wine glasses to the kitchen and refilled them. When she returned to the great room, Elsa was still staring into the fire, arms wrapped around herself. Anna offered her the wine, but she shook her head. Anna set the glass on the mantle.

"Elsa, maybe we should go back to the NPs. They can put you in protective custody."

Elsa shook her head. "No. I can't do that, not now."

"Why not?"

"They want to put Agdar away. They wouldn't let me bring him in. Either he goes to prison or I do. I was willing to go back when I thought he was trying to have me killed, but not now. I can't see him sent to the dungeons, I just can't."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet." Elsa met her eyes, certainty in them now. "But I'm never going back. I won't be party to Agdar going to prison."

Anna gaped at her as the implications sank in. "But…where does that leave me? I can't go back without you, Elsa!"

Elsa dropped her gaze. "This place isn't so bad, is it?" she asked softly.

"We can't stay here forever! And what about my life? It's not glamorous or exciting, but it's _mine_."

"You won't be safe there. Whoever is after me will assume that you know everything."

"Maybe, but that should be something I decide for myself. You have no right to back me into a corner!"

"I'm sorry, Anna. I never wanted anyone else to be dragged into this mess." She headed for the stairs. "Especially not someone like you."

"Please, Elsa, don't do this."

Elsa paused about halfway up the stairs and looked down at her sadly. "I'm sorry," she mouthed before running up the stairs.

Anna stared after her, listening as Elsa's footsteps faded down the hallway. She whirled around and flung her glass into the fireplace. It shattered, sending sparks flying. Anna sank to her knees and pounded her fist into the rug, trying not scream with rage and frustration.

* * *

 _A/N: Goodness, that was quite...talky. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - work's been a bear, and I've been slow to reply. I'll get there, I promise!_


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Disney's._

 _Warnings: Alcohol and violence, i.e., Anna gets drunk and stupid._

* * *

Anna yanked open the fridge under the bar and pulled out the first six-pack she got her hands on. Fjellvann in cans. Well, she wasn't going to be picky. She jerked a can from its plastic ring and popped it open. Half of it was gone before she hit the front door.

She stopped and stared at the garage door as she turned toward the perimeter path. Maybe she should just get on the bike and take off, ride until her gas, money, or sanity was completely gone. It was a toss-up as to which would run out first – her money or her sanity.

Or…she could ride back into the city by herself. Find this NP, this Kristoff Borgman or Bjorgman, whatever the hell Elsa said his name was. Find him and turn Elsa in. She could claim ignorance. She hadn't done anything wrong. Well, she had, but she could explain it away as an overwhelming desire not to get killed. Being with Elsa had been one near-death experience after another.

Turning her in should be an easy decision.

Except it wasn't.

Anna drained the beer and tossed the can into the yard. _Let the self-righteous environmental crusader come out and clean up her own fucking yard_. The thought was petty, and she knew it, but she left the can where it lay and tromped off along the path.

Another beer was gone by the time she reached the little pond, the can tossed alongside the path. Anna flopped down in the snow on the bank and popped open another. She would drink until her brain shut down or she came up with a brilliant plan. The problem with that was that planning had never really been something she did.

Flying by the seat of her pants? That she could do. Thinking past tomorrow? Not so much.

She looked up at the mountain behind her. In the light of the rising moon, she could make out a little promontory. _You can probably see all the way to Arendelle City from there_.

Seized by a sudden urge to check it out, Anna planted the half-finished can in the snow and started running up the mountain. Her legs pumped hard, snow crunching under every footstep, and breath rolling out in a fog in front of her. Vaguely, she knew it was a dumb idea – it was dark, she was off the path, and running through shin-deep snow with no idea what was underneath. She could hit a rock or stump, maybe fall into a crevasse. But she didn't stop.

She reached the promontory and clambered onto the jutting rock, sweat-soaked in spite of the chill, her chest heaving with exertion. Sure enough, she could make out the lights of Arendelle City in the distance. She stretched out on her back and stared up at the sky. The stars would be so much more visible up here than they were in the city. But was it a view worth giving up the life she had?

 _And what, exactly, would you be giving up?_

She had a job that she liked, but didn't love, one that paid her bills, but kept her out at all kinds of weird hours, and sometimes taught her things about her fellow man that she'd rather not know. She was mostly estranged from what little family she had left. Her best friends were a giant dog and a thirteen-year-old oddball genius. She couldn't even keep a boyfriend. What the hell had happened to her?

 _Goddamn_ Elsa.

Anna jumped off the rock and tried to run back to the pond. But the slope was too steep, and the run turned into a half-slide, half-roll down the mountainside. She crashed onto her back at the edge of the pond, the ice cracking under her. Glacial water seeped into her clothes.

 _Fuck!_

Anna lurched to her feet, shivering, aware for the first time since she left the house that she wasn't wearing a coat. _Stupid_. She grabbed up the open beer can and chugged what was left, then dropped the empty at the water's edge. Snatching up the rest of the six-pack, she ran back down the path toward the house as fast as her legs would carry her.

She climbed the front steps on wobbly legs, warmed by the effort and breathing heavily. She plopped down on her ass on the porch and stared out at the blinking lights of the towns below. Slurped down another beer and tossed the can into the yard. Then she threw open the front door and slogged to the great room, taking petulant satisfaction at the dirty trail left by her slush-soaked sneakers and wet clothing. She made a beeline for the bar. The beer had her buzzing, but Anna wanted to get _drunk_.

She tossed the remaining beer cans into the bar's sink and opened the liquor cabinet. _Brennevin. Nice_. She snatched the bottle out. Not bothering with a glass, she unscrewed the top and put the bottle to her lips. The liquor burned down her throat, settling pleasantly in her stomach like a warm ember.

She carried the bottle to the solarium, where she stripped down to her underwear and dove into the pool. The water was warm, and her chills quickly disappeared. Anna glided along the bottom, then pushed off hard and did a dolphin dive into an awkward handstand, legs kicking wildly. She toppled over, blowing bubbles out of her nose and mouth, and then floated on her back and squinted through the solarium's roof at the moonlit sky.

 _It's funny_ , she thought, _a few drinks and suddenly I feel like I can see the end of my life_. At least figuratively. Maybe literally too, if she wasn't careful. Was this what it was like to predict the future?

She drifted over to the side of the pool and downed several big swallows of Brennevin. It no longer burned in her throat, which was probably not a good sign, but Anna didn't care. Untwisting her braids, she ducked under to push her hair back from her face. Then she leaned against the edge of the pool, thinking about her messed-up life and the woman who'd done it to her.

When, exactly, had Elsa made her decision not to go back? Tonight, when she figured out that Agdar Erikksen was not the one trying to kill her? Or had she made it much sooner, maybe the very night she and Anna met?

Anna started to wonder if she'd been played.

Shadowed movements above the solarium caught her eye, and she realized that she could see Elsa's bedroom window, light filtering through the window treatments.

Anna stiffened when Elsa came into view. The window coverings weren't completely opaque, and Anna's mouth went dry as Elsa began to undress. Her sweater came off first, then her pants. She disappeared in and out of the window frame a couple of times, wearing just a camisole, then that came off as well, and Anna let out a little moan. The view wasn't perfectly clear through the gauzy curtains, but she could now see things that the towel from this morning had only hinted at.

Elsa's body was as perfect as she'd imagined.

Then a nightgown fell into place, and the light went out. The show was over. Anna took another slug from the Brennevin bottle.

She leaned her head back against the edge of the pool and closed her eyes. The heat now pulsing low in her belly had nothing to do with the liquor. Had Elsa known she was down here? Had she done it on purpose? Was the little skin display recompense for ruining Anna's life? Surely she had to know the kind of effect that she had. Anna's thoughts drifted back to the afternoon at the range – Elsa's warmth, the fresh, almost wintry scent that seemed to surround her, the way her belly had quivered under Anna's hand…

How would the rest of that body respond to her touch?

 _Shit_. Another inch disappeared from the bottle, and Anna opened her eyes to look up at the now-darkened window. Was Elsa asleep? Really? How could she be asleep after all this?

Anna was suddenly and irrationally pissed. She'd held up her end of the bargain, had gotten Elsa to safety on the promise that Elsa would return to the NPs and make sure Anna was clear. In return, Elsa had taken her life, and fallen into a peaceful sleep? No way. No one could fuck up her life and then go to sleep like it had been a normal fucking day!

 _Are you pissed because she fucked up your life, or because you're starting to realize that the one you have isn't all that great?_

Anna squashed that thought savagely. Elsa owed her an explanation and she was going to get one. She hauled herself out of the pool, staggering a bit, and peered owlishly at the Brennevin bottle. It was more than half empty. _Huh_. Anna didn't remember drinking that much, but it didn't matter. She glanced at her clothes, which were lying in a cold, wet heap on one of the lounge chairs. _Fuck it, I won't need those_. She took a few more pulls at the bottle, her pulse spiking with each swallow, and then put it aside and stalked into the house.

She took the curved staircase two steps at a time, wondering if she would have to pick the lock on Elsa's door. No, she decided, if it was locked, she would just kick it in. But the door was unlocked, and Anna slipped into the room. She paused for a second, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. The moonlight silhouetted the bed and the sleeping woman in it. Anna strode over and stood next to it, swaying slightly, her mouth desert-dry as she eyed the way the sheets draped over the slim curves of Elsa's body.

Elsa must have sensed her, for suddenly she stared up at her, blue eyes wide and questioning. Her gaze flicked up and down, taking in Anna standing there in just her sports bra and panties, dripping all over the carpet. "Anna?"

Anna's arm shot out and yanked the covers back. Elsa started to sit up, but Anna climbed onto the bed and straddled her hips, forcing her to fall back against the pillow. She raked her eyes over Elsa's breasts, which were becoming more visible as water trickled from Anna's hair and body to plaster her thin nightgown to her skin. Anna's pulse jackrabbited, blood rushing through her veins and pounding in her ears, and she wanted nothing more at that moment than to touch –

Then Elsa was holding her forearms, and her anger came rushing back, until she was almost shaking with it. She grabbed Elsa's wrists and pinned them to the mattress by the sides of her head. "How can you sleep?" she demanded, leaning over the other woman, her wet hair falling forward to curtain around them both. "Why are you doing this to me? Why? I _trusted_ you!"

Her fingers clenched hard around slender wrists, and Elsa's body tensed beneath her. The other woman's nose wrinkled as Anna's alcohol-laden breath washed across her face, and her eyes got impossibly round. Anna went cold. Was that _fear_ she saw in those clear blue eyes? Was Elsa _afraid_ of her?

She shivered violently. Suddenly, she wanted Elsa to smell the fumes of the liquor, the stink of sweat and chlorine. Her fingers tightened around Elsa's wrists. Elsa's breathing was harsh and fast, and Anna leaned closer, wanting her to think that it was the alcohol that was driving all this, not her. Anna would never…

But yet she was.

 _Oh my God, what am I doing?_

Shocked realization – and then shame - punched through her alcohol-induced haze, slapping her back to coherence. She let go of Elsa and sat back, mortified. She'd burst in on a sleeping woman who had already been through hell, and assaulted her in her bed like some sort of crazed animal. Anna shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hands.

Cool fingers closed around her forearms and pried her hands away from her face. Anna kept her eyes closed, tears burning behind her lids. They escaped and fell to her cheeks, hot and wet, and now homeless, just like her. Elsa shifted beneath her. Hopefully, the other woman would shove her off the bed. She wanted Elsa to punch her. No, she wanted Elsa to _cold-cock_ her.

Instead, a gentle hand wiped away the tears.

Anna finally opened her eyes. Elsa's face was blurry through her tears, but she could still see the aching sadness in those crystal blue eyes, and her chest clenched painfully. Wetness coated the other woman's cheeks, but whether from her own tears or from Anna's dripping hair, she didn't know. The tension in Elsa's body, the cool softness of the hand that still rested on Anna's cheek – it all combined to batter down her defenses, and Anna thought her heart might break.

She started to feel sick, her stomach lurching, her hands trembling. With a strangled cry, she rolled off Elsa and staggered into the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet, falling to her knees beside it as the Brennevin, the beer and dinner all made a reappearance. It came back up much faster and much more unpleasantly than it had gone down. Anna pressed her forehead against the porcelain, vaguely aware of a pair of hands gathering her hair back before she retched again and passed out on the cold tile floor.

* * *

The stroke of a cool washcloth against her neck and forehead brought her around. Her back rested against something warm and soft, and she realized that Elsa was on the bathroom floor behind her, cradling her in her arms. She lay between the other woman's knees, and when she turned her head, her nose burrowed into the warmth of Elsa's chest. Anna breathed deeply, those wintry scents filling her nose.

"I've got you," Elsa murmured against her hair. The washcloth moved over her neck and face again, and gentle fingers combed through her hair. "How do you feel?"

Anna groaned, her tongue thick and dry. "Like I've been dragged up and down the mountain a dozen times." She was still nauseous, and really cold, shivering hard, her teeth chattering.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Elsa helped her sit up and then stand, one arm firmly around her waist.

Anna saw her wet sports bra and panties on the floor beside the toilet, along with a towel. She now wore a long T-shirt. Elsa must have dried her off and changed her; in her state, she wouldn't have been capable. Some barely-functional part of her brain told her that she should be humiliated, but right now she was sick and cold and the room would not stop spinning.

Elsa pulled Anna's arm over her shoulder, and wrapped one of her own around Anna's waist, supporting her as they left the bathroom. Elsa got her to the bed and helped her climb in, pulling the sheets and blankets up and tucking them around her chin. Anna buried her face in the pillows and clutched the covers, fighting a roiling stomach and silently begging for the world to stop rotating.

Cool fingers ghosted across her forehead and along her cheek. "I'll sleep in another bedroom," Elsa said.

Anna kept her eyes shut. She couldn't bear to look at Elsa. Despite her chills, her body burned with shame. She heard Elsa move toward the door. Right as it creaked open, Anna croaked out, "I'm so sorry, Elsa."

Just before the door clicked shut, she heard Elsa's reply, so soft it was barely audible. "Believe it or not, Anna, you're not as sorry as I am."

* * *

 _A/N: Sometimes good people do not-so-good things. And they regret it later, and not just because of the hangover._


	26. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: Disney owns Frozen_

* * *

Agdar ran through his mental checklist as he picked at the last of his breakfast. First and foremost, he was going to have to shake the tails that both Weselton and the National Police surely had on him. Call Idunn. Make a few other calls, work out his arrangements, refine his plan. It was the one area of his being that his enemies couldn't penetrate: his mind. It was a comforting thought. Agdar was getting his confidence back, and he was determined to make things as difficult for Weselton and Westergard as he possibly could.

He'd stayed in the archives until late in the afternoon, fascinated by the journal. Context indeed. The information he'd gleaned would help set the succession firmly, if he could only track down a few last pieces. And for that, he needed to leave Arendelle City. Quietly, and with no unwanted companionship.

Margareta had finally had to ask him to leave, as they needed to close up the archives for the day. She asked if he'd found what he needed, and he told her that he thought so, but would likely come back soon to have another look. They had a brief discussion about the journal. Margareta seemed to agree with majority of historians about the princess whose journal it was – she was a minor figure, beautiful but somewhat vapid, a spare whose only importance was that she produced a child who inherited the Crocus Throne from her unmarried older sister.

That opinion would change when scholars got a look at this journal, Agdar was sure. He saw a sharp mind behind what just appeared to be the ramblings of a somewhat flighty teenager. Ramblings that dropped important clues, fleshed out the issues of the times, and gave an up-close, personal insight to what was one of the most important eras in Arendelle's history.

And most importantly, she had left another marker – perhaps the last one he needed – to find the once and future queen.

He went to his study to gaze at his treasured painting, to draw some much-needed strength for the events that lay ahead. He switched on the light, then choked back an anguished cry.

The painting was gone.

Agdar stared in disbelief at the empty frame hanging over his desk. He walked to the desk on unsteady legs, put his hand through the frame and touched the wall behind it. He'd been robbed.

Hands shaking, he pulled out his phone to call the police. Just as he did, the phone rang. He did not recognize the number. He swiped his thumb across the screen. "Erikksen," he said.

"I'll be there in two minutes, sir," Gustaf's voice said. "Are you going to your office?"

Agdar didn't react right away, his mind reeling.

"Are you going to the office, sir?" Gustaf asked again.

"Yes," Agdar managed. He hung up and stared at the empty frame. Weselton and Westergard. It had to be.

First Elsa, and now his painting. What else would the bastards try to take from him? He clenched his fist and pounded on the wall behind the empty frame.

 _Fine. Now it's my turn._

He went to his den, where he had a state-of-the-art home entertainment system. A giant TV, stereo, expensive speakers with surround sound, Blu-Ray player, even a VCR to play his old VHS tapes, all of it built into customized wood cabinets. He didn't worry much about burglars in here, since taking any of the components would involve tools and the complex removal of the cabinet pieces.

A burglar stripping the house clean would have pissed him off less than the theft of his painting.

Agdar reached into the VCR's tape slot and pulled out a passport, credit card, and driver's permit, all under an alias. He slipped them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, then reached back into the slot and removed a small bundle of hundred-kroner bills. He slid that into his jacket as well.

He looked out his front window. It was raining, a dreary downpour that matched his mood. His car pulled up next to the curb, and Gustaf looked out through the windshield, clearly reluctant to go out in the rain. Agdar certainly wasn't going to him – he was more than happy to let the idiot cool his heels in the car until he figured it out. He picked up the Infernal Briefcase and went back to the dining room, setting it on the table and popping it open. He carefully checked the modifications he'd made to the miniature recording system. Then he sat back, reading his newspaper and sipping his coffee until the doorbell rang.

He took his time answering. Gustaf stood scowling on his front steps, rain dripping from his hair. "I told you I'd be here in two minutes."

Agdar just gave him a cool stare. "And? Am I now beholden to my _driver's_ schedule rather than my own?"

Gustaf reddened, but could hardly argue with him. "We can go whenever you're ready, sir."

Agdar retrieved his umbrella and the Infernal Briefcase, smirking as Gustaf ran down to the car. Gustaf opened the door for him, but he took his time getting there. He climbed into the back seat and stiffened.

"Good morning, Agdar," Eckbert Weselton greeted him. Hans Westergard grinned wolfishly at him from the front passenger seat.

Agdar's eyes shifted from one to the other. "Good morning," he said as calmly as he could.

Westergard glanced at his briefcase, and gave him a questioning look.

Agdar nodded his head toward the brown sedan parked down the block. It was undeniably an unmarked police car. "I'm going to my office. My watchers will certainly expect me to take my briefcase."

Weselton nodded. "I suppose they will. You're getting better at this, Agdar."

Agdar's fingers twitched, and he tightened them around the briefcase's handle. "Where is my painting?"

"Don't worry, it's in a safe place. Which is really more than you deserve right now."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Westergard leaned over the seat. "That means Anna Aarndahl, P.I. The person you hired to follow Elsa Kjarensen."

Agdar pressed his lips together. How had they found out about Anna Aarndahl? Had he now put another young woman in danger? He swallowed and said, "I didn't know that Elsa had gone to the National Police when I did that. I was only concerned for her safety."

"And why would you be concerned for her safety, Mr. Erikksen?" Westergard asked, an infuriating half-smile on his face.

"I think you know the answer to that."

Weselton looked offended. "Why in the world would we want to harm Elsa Kjarensen? I hardly even know her."

"Does that really make a difference to you? You've harmed plenty of people you don't know."

"Enough! You were wrong to hire a private investigator, Agdar. It's caused unnecessary complications. Your painting will probably be returned to you. But for now, learn to get along without it."

"How did you get into my house? I have a security system."

Weselton and Westergard both burst out laughing. "Oh, please," Weselton said. "You really have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?"

Agdar curled his fingers into the leather seat, fighting the urge to wrap them around the man's scrawny neck.

"I find you so amusing, Agdar. Running around hugging the trees and trying to save the have-nots. You just don't understand, it's the way of the world. A balance. Rich and poor. Powerful and powerless. We'll always have it, and there is nothing you can do to change that. You just have to make sure that you're on the right side of the equation."

"And which side is that?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that," Westergard mocked. "Just like people will always hate each other, will always betray each other. That's how we got onto you, you know. Someone was jealous of you, jealous of your success. So he turned on you, just like Elsa did."

Agdar closed his eyes. He refused to believe that Elsa had voluntarily betrayed him.

"We were in a competition of sorts, you and I," Weselton put in. "And I make it my business to know everything about my competitors. This man didn't know about your little scheme, but said enough to rouse my curiosity. So we tapped your office, your home, even your car. What a treasure trove we found."

"Yes, yes, I'm quite impressed with your acumen. Now where is Elsa?"

"Actually, we were hoping you could tell us that," Westergard said.

"What do you want with her, Westergard?" Agdar demanded.

"Perhaps I want her to come work for me." That wolfish grin again. "I bet she's quite…talented."

Agdar trembled and dug his fingers deeper into the leather. He longed to throw himself over the seat and beat the man to a bloody pulp. Westergard knew exactly which buttons to push. Agdar could not give him the satisfaction of a violent response.

"Enough, Hans," Weselton said, his voice tinged with amusement. "I want Miss Kjarensen to come work for me, Agdar, the same way that you do. After all, I've known about you much longer than the National Police have, and I won't let them undo all my hard work."

There was a dangerous edge to the man's snivelly voice. The hairs on the back of Agdar's neck stood up. He shifted the briefcase in his hand and chose his words carefully. "What can Elsa possibly give you that I haven't already?"

"I'm just stacking the equation in my favor. Two resources are always better than one."

"Does your equation include the NP agent you had murdered?"

Weselton gave him a cold stare. "You would be well-served to stay in your own lane in this race, Agdar."

 _Not if you intend to involve Elsa. In whatever sick capacity you have in mind_. "But I'm interested in all the results, not just mine. You told me Elsa had gone to the National Police. Then I hear that an agent was killed while working on an undisclosed case, the very same night that Elsa disappeared." He side-eyed Westergard, who watched him with a trace of amusement on his handsome features. "I admit it – I hired Aarndahl to follow Elsa, to make sure she was safe. But she hasn't reported to me. Did you have her killed too?"

Weselton sniffed. "I'm a businessman. I don't have people killed."

"The NPs got onto Elsa somehow, and you couldn't have that, could you? Your whole scheme falls apart if she tells them about me. And I didn't believe for a minute that you would let me walk away when you're done with me. I haven't survived this long in my business by being an idiot."

"Interesting concept, survival," Westergard said, narrowing his eyes. "I doubt - "

Agdar shot forward and got in his face. "I've forgotten more about survival than you've ever learned, _pup_. Has it ever even crossed your mind that you might not always be the smartest guy in the room? Or have your successes so far already gone to your pretty head?"

Westergard's face reddened, and he bared his teeth. Agdar gave him a shark-like grin as he sat back.

"Now, I consider myself something of partner with you two - " he paused to feign a shudder – "abhorrent as I find that idea. And as your partner, I want to know if you had that NP killed, because I want to know exactly what I have to do to get out of this nightmare."

The other two men simply stared at him, so he pressed on, feeling a bit reckless now. "And I want to know if you killed Elsa and Aarndahl. And if you don't tell me, well, then, the second I leave this car, I'm going to walk back to that one." He pointed out the back window at the brown sedan, now trailing fifty yards behind them. "If you think you can kill me with the NPs watching, go right ahead."

Weselton's eyes widened, but Westergard just gave him a calculating look. Agdar focused his attention on the younger man. "You know the old tale of the trees and the axe, don't you?" Westergard shook his head slightly. "Did your mother not read to you?"

That earned him a snarl. "Pity. Well, I'll tell it to you, then. A man goes into the forest to ask the trees to give him a handle for his axe. The trees grant his request, and give him an ash tree. No sooner has the man fashioned his axe handle than he began to use it, felling the giants of the forest. An old oak, mourning the destruction of his companions, said to a young cedar, "Had we not given the ash, we would have stood for ages.'"

He looked back and forth between Weselton and Westergard and smiled. "Mister Oak. Mister Cedar."

The two men just stared at him for a very long minute.

Finally Weselton broke the silence. "Kjarensen had to be eliminated. The agent was with her, so he had to go too. No loose ends."

 _My God_. Agdar stopped himself from swallowing. "But you missed Elsa."

"Your private detective got in the way! If not for your blunder, this catastrophe never would have happened!"

Agdar raised his hands in front of him. "It never occurred to me that you would try to kill anyone. I just didn't want her involved. So you have no idea where she is?"

"It's only a matter of time until we find her," Westergard said with a slight smile. "Where there's a lure, there's always possibility."

"And what, exactly, does that mean?"

"It means we're finished talking," Westergard said, giving Weselton a hard look.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the garage below Agdar's office building. Gustaf parked the car, and Agdar opened the door. Before he got out, he said, "If you gentlemen need a ride somewhere, Gustaf is at your disposal."

He glanced at the brown sedan rolling down the garage ramp, then grinned at Weselton and slammed the car door.

* * *

Hans stared at Erikksen's retreating back, his mind churning. Where had the man's sudden confidence come from? He acted like he had the upper hand, when Hans was fairly certain that he didn't. Did Erikksen know something that Hans didn't?

He thought back to the previous evening. He knew Erikksen had seen the journal. Margareta was always quite forthcoming about her work, especially when they lay in his bed afterward, sweating and sated. She took pride in her work, and he'd learned just the right ways to touch her to keep her talking. He now knew everything that she knew about the journal, which wasn't nearly as much as he needed.

Somehow Erikksen had managed to get unrestricted access to it for several hours. He likely had gleaned much more than Hans had been able to get from Margareta, even with the pictures she'd provided. Hans needed the same access. Could Margareta arrange that? She thought Erikksen was a historian doing scholarly research. Hans bit back a derisive snort. He knew his lover was easily deceived – after all, she thought Hans actually _cared_ for her.

Well, maybe he did, in his own way. But such attachments were bothersome and had to be kept in perspective. After all, Westergards did not _do_ emotion.

Except for when it suited their interests. In this case, love did not suit his interests. Desire, perhaps. But not love.

Hans pushed those thoughts aside and turned back to the Weasel, who was also watching Erikksen. "Something's changed," he said. "We need to keep a closer eye on him."

"Agreed," Weselton replied. "Gustaf, keep a tight watch on him. He is not to be out of your sight."

"Yes, sir."

A gray town car came down the ramp into the garage and parked next to them. Gustaf got out and opened the door for the Weasel. Hans joined him in the town car, his phone already out and pressed to his ear.

"Step up the watch on Erikksen. Put someone on his house, and someone on his NP tail."

He hung up and leaned back in the seat, pondering how to attack this new development.

* * *

Kristoff poked at the fire and added another log. He picked up his coffee mug and stared into the flames. When was the last time he was home at this time on a workday? He wasn't sure. Maybe right after his Politiskolen graduation. No, it was probably the last time Grandpabbie had been sick, and he had taken shifts with Bulda to watch him.

Suspended. He'd never imagined something like that happening to him. Suspensions were things that happened to agents who'd lost their way, who were unethical or criminal or just plain incompetent. But he was none of those things, and yet it had happened to him anyway. Four years as an agent, and his career was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

His hands kept straying to his belt, where his creds should have been. It was like poking his tongue at a missing tooth, a space where there shouldn't be one.

If he lost his job, what would he do? The other Royal agencies wouldn't touch him if he the NPs fired him. Nor would the Arendelle City Police. He supposed he could return to the mountains of his early childhood. Maybe a village constable would hire him.

Kristoff looked across the room at his grandfather, snoozing in his recliner, a blanket tucked up around his chin. Kristoff had found him in the backyard an hour earlier, ambling along the fence and staring up into the pouring rain with a beatific smile. The old man, in one of his rare completely lucid moments, asked Kristoff what he was doing at home. Kristoff stammered through a lame explanation about changes at the office, earning a skeptical squint before Grandpabbie sank back into his fog, muttering under his breath about strange magic.

Sven bumped his leg. "Hey there, boy." He patted the dog's head. He squatted down and scratched behind the big dog's ears, then dug his fingers into his ruff. "What am I going to do, boy? How am I going to take care of Bulda and Grandpabbie?"

Sven had an affectionate nuzzle and lick to the face to offer, but no advice.

Kristoff ran his hand through his hair. Grandpabbie's retirement pension included some health care, but Bulda had nothing. She'd given up her job to take care of Grandpabbie. And there was no guarantee that a new employer would allow him to claim them as dependents—

Sven's thunderous barking and chime of the doorbell pulled him from his thoughts. He followed the dog to the front door, where he could see Kai looking through the decorative glass. Unsure if this was a good sign or not, he opened the door and waved the older man into the house.

Kai took a silently proffered cup of coffee and settled onto the worn armchair in the den. He patted Sven, and studied Kristoff in thoughtful silence. Kristoff was suddenly conscious of his worn jeans and old Grøntfjell Avalanche hockey sweater, and tried not to fidget.

"Did they talk to you?" he finally asked.

Kai nodded. "Lieutenant Sinclair and Chifu. I came very close to being suspended myself."

"Why?!"

"Because I was this close - " Kai raised his hand, his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart – "to knocking Chifu on his backside."

"Don't tank your career or get arrested for me, Kai."

"If I had done it, it would have been for me, not for you. That pathetic excuse for an agent." Kai sounded as angry as Kristoff had ever heard him. "The most disturbing thing is that they actually believe that you're involved in all of this."

He settled back against the chair, turning his coffee mug in his hands. "I told them that you wanted to go with Kjarensen that night because you had the best relationship with her, but we also had the potential whistleblower from Energy that we just couldn't put off. I also told them how unsure you were, that you didn't really know if sending Persie alone with Kjarensen was the right thing to do, but she couldn't really be put off either, because she was still so much on the fence."

"What did they say to that?"

"They didn't want to hear it. They've already made their decision."

Kristoff dug his fingers into the thick fur around Sven's neck and scratched. He waited for Kai to continue, but as the silence stretched on, he finally asked, "Did they tell you about the money?"

Kai nodded. "I don't like adding insult to injury, Kristoff, but what were you thinking? Why would you investigate Persie's finances without telling someone? You know we work in teams for a reason, not the least of which is covering each other's backsides." He took a big swallow of his coffee and set the mug on the side table. "Now you have no one to corroborate your story except for Aggie Norberg, and as far as Sinclair and Chifu are concerned, she doesn't count."

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair. "I just…it's not fair to Aggie and the kids. They lost Persie, they should at least be able to keep his good name."

"I know," Kai said. "And as a friend of Persie's, I can appreciate that. But speaking as an agent…if he was being paid off, well, perhaps his reputation doesn't deserve your protection."

"We don't know that for sure yet."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Cash in a safe-deposit box under an alias? How many legitimate reasons are there to do that? The most innocent reason would be tax evasion, and that's a career-ender, too."

Kristoff just stared into the fire. The easiest thing would be to just accept that Persie was into something dirty, and that he, too, had gotten splattered. But how?

"Kai, why would the bank call the department directly? I mean, they have to file a tax report if there's a big deposit, but why call the cops? And how did they find out that I was looking at Persie's finances? Aggie asked _me_ for help, I can't believe she'd call them."

"I asked those questions myself. They wouldn't say - I suspect they don't trust me. I poked around some, though, and I think there was a phone tip. I also went to the bank and waved my creds around. The bank got an anonymous call saying that your grandfather's account was being used in some funny business, so they called the department's fraud line."

"There's something weird going on, Kai. Sinclair and Chifu knew about Grandpabbie's account before I did. I was in the car and on my way to meet them when Bulda called me about it."

"Yes, Sinclair told me you were claiming that you were set up. Well, I think you're correct about that."

Something unknotted inside Kristoff. He hadn't realized how much he needed someone, anyone, to believe him. The fact that Kai, with all his years of experience, believed him and was still loyal, meant more than he could express.

"Kai, being seen here, well, it's not exactly going to help your career, you know. I'm sure Chifu put a tail on me."

"I'm your tail, actually."

"Wait, what?"

"I called in a few markers. Both Sinclair and Chifu owe me, but they're sorely mistaken if they think this makes us even." Kai's mouth quirked in a grim smile. "But don't get excited, Kristoff. You screwed up, badly, and you gave the two of them a scapegoat to toss to the wolves if this investigation blows up in our faces."

Kristoff stared, shocked by the uncharacteristic bluntness. "Tell me what you really think, Agent Haugland."

"Do you really want me to waste time sugarcoating your predicament?" Kai demanded. "Or do you want my help to clear your name?"

Kristoff gulped. He had to clear his name. He could lose it all otherwise. "But I have no creds. No gun. No _authority_."

"But you have me. I have creds, a gun, and after all these years, I practically _exude_ authority." He smiled broadly, and Kristoff chuckled. "Get your coat, and let's go find Elsa Kjarensen. If we can get her back, I think the pieces will start to fall into place."

"Sounds good to me." Kristoff went to the closet to grab his raincoat. "You know, you don't have to do this, Kai. You could get in a lot of trouble."

"I'll take my chances. Besides, I'm second-in-command, and the squad still has an investigation to run. I don't know if you heard, but our supervisor went off the rails and got himself suspended."

"Yeah, pretty bone-headed move on his part."

"I do ask one thing in return, though."

"What's that?"

"When you go back to Headquarters to pick up your creds and gun, take me with you. I want to see Chifu's face."

"Deal."


	27. Chapter 27

_Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, it's Disney's._

* * *

Agdar's schedule for the day had originally included a mid-morning meeting at the Nasjonsting, pitching sustainable energy research funding to an audience that didn't want to catch it. The chairman of the Energy and Environment Committee was so tight with Weselton that it would it take a crowbar to separate them. Well, it mattered little now. The meeting had been rescheduled, but with any luck, the leadership would change before they reconvened.

He'd left the meeting on his calendar, though. He was going to need it to cover his tracks.

Gustaf dropped him off at King Magnus Plass near the Nasjonsting. He went up the front stairs and turned toward the Fellesting side of the building, a remnant of the old bicameral legislature that was now primarily hearing rooms and office space. He knew he was being followed, by more people now than before. There were a lot of men in suits around, but he'd been wandering these halls long enough to know who really belonged there and who didn't. He assumed that those that didn't were either National Police or Weselton's men. After their chat in the car earlier, he was sure that the Weasel had deployed more assets.

Agdar strode down the hall and turned into a hearing chamber. He flipped the switch that turned on the 'Hearing in Session' sign over the outer door. The door on the other side of the room opened to a narrow service stairwell. He took it all the way down to a basement boiler room, where he opened his briefcase and pulled out a raincoat, a battered fedora, and a pair of black-framed glasses. Shrugging out of his suit jacket and tie, he stuffed them in the briefcase before putting on the raincoat and glasses.

Tossing his umbrella behind a maze of pipes, he left the boiler room and made his way to a small corridor that took him beneath the main Nasjonsting chamber to the other side of the building. He climbed the stairs to the main floor. No one gave him a second look as he donned the fedora and left the building through the rear lobby, his briefcase tucked under the raincoat.

Half an hour later, he was at the airport, where he boarded a plane for Gjoheim. Even as his fingers clutched the arms of his seat through the bucking, banking takeoff, he couldn't resist a look back at the Arendelle Castle, fading into the distance. Would he ever walk through the gates again?

And if he did, would it be in cuffs? Or with the future of Arendelle by his side?

* * *

Anna groaned and rolled onto her back, feeling like all seven of Snow White's dwarves had heigh-ho'd their asses off to work inside her head.

 _Pickaxes. Why do they always use pickaxes?_ Why couldn't the little bastards just pull the diamonds out with their bare hands? Dopey in particular seemed to be taking fiendish glee in driving his pickaxe into a place just behind her left eyebrow.

She ran her tongue over the roof of her dry mouth and crinkled her nose in disgust. _Ugh, and who put all the little socks on my teeth?_

She ran her hand over her face and attempted to sit up. Bad idea. Her stomach turned and the dwarves picked up the pace, adding their hellish whistling to the cacophony inside her skull. Happy joined Dopey in hammering at the spot behind her left brow.

Rolling back on her side, she forced her eyes open. On the bedside table sat a big glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. _Drink all of it_ read a neatly-written note propped against the glass.

"Oh, thank God," she croaked, though with her dry, swollen tongue, it came out more like _ow thik gah_. She pushed herself upright, moaning as the dwarves redoubled their hammering. Her trembling fingers fumbled open the aspirin bottle, dumping a pile of the pills into her palm. She popped several into her mouth, and drained the glass of water.

She sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees and head in her hands, until she was sure that the water and aspirin would stay in her stomach. Then she got up and tottered into the bathroom, where she stripped off the t-shirt and got in the shower. She turned it on and sank onto the tile bench, sighing as the hot water pulsed against her back.

 _It's not fair. If I'm gonna feel like shit, I at least shouldn't have to remember how fucking stupid I was._

Maybe she could just sit there under the water until her entire body melted away and ran down the drain. Then she wouldn't have to remember last night, remember what she'd done. She wouldn't have to face Elsa. Every time she thought about it, all she could recall was Elsa's wide-eyed stare and the rigid tension of her body. The pain in her eyes.

But also…soothing words in her ears. Gentle fingers in her hair. Warm arms, holding her, supporting her, helping her to bed.

 _God, I'm such an idiot._

She didn't dissolve down the drain, but after a while her fingers and toes got wrinkly and the water went lukewarm. Her head still pounded, but it was duller, like the dwarves had traded their pickaxes for rubber mallets.

She wrapped herself in a towel and went back to the bedroom, where she found her underwear, her black yoga pants, and an Arendelle University sweatshirt folded neatly on the bed. Anna just stared at them, trying to quash the spark of hope in her chest. The water, the aspirin, and now the clothes – Elsa had been in at least twice to check on her. Maybe she didn't hate her?

Or did she just want Anna to leave faster?

She dressed and went downstairs, still moving a bit unsteadily. The smell of coffee and eggs led her toward the kitchen. Elsa was pouring a cup of coffee. She wore jeans and a purple blouse with three-quarter length sleeves, and was in her sock feet. She looked up when Anna dropped onto a stool at the breakfast bar. She pulled out another mug and filled it, then slid it across the bar. Anna felt a little surge of warmth, both at the simple act of companionship and the slight quirk at the corner of Elsa's lips that might have been a smile.

The warmth quickly faded when she saw the bruises on Elsa's wrists.

"I really thought you might sleep all day," Elsa said. Her tone held a forced casualness, and her arms wrapped around her middle.

Anna closed her eyes, the lump in her throat threatening to strangle her. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out.

"Are scrambled eggs all right?" Elsa asked, turning toward the stove.

"That's fine," Anna managed. She opened her eyes and watched Elsa, who expertly cracked and dropped eggs into the pan with one hand. Her gaze kept returning to those bruised wrists, the purplish marks standing out on Elsa's fair skin, and part of her wished that that her throbbing head would just explode and put her out of her misery.

The crackling of eggs in the pan was the only sound in the kitchen. Anna cast desperately about for something, anything, to break the silence. But what was she supposed to say? _Hey, sorry I climbed into your bed and assaulted you last night. But we're good, right?_

"That smells good," she said finally, then mentally face-palmed herself. _That was…inane._ And not really true – her stomach was on the edge of rebellion again. Elsa didn't respond; she just picked up a whisk and started stirring the eggs, her shoulders hunched in like she was trying to make herself smaller. Anna stared into her coffee, wondering if it was possible to actually die of remorse. "Elsa?"

Elsa didn't turn around, just kept whisking the eggs in the pan.

"Elsa, if you want me to leave… I'll leave," Anna said, swallowing hard. "What I-I…did to you last night…I'm so sorry." She looked up to see Elsa shoot a quick glance back at her. "That…that's not who I am. I don't blame you if you don't believe me, but…"

Elsa looked back over her shoulder, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Well, I - " she paused to clear her throat, "I won't deny that I imagined – _hoped_ – that.. something might… happen?... between us? Even in this…this nightmare we're in. I just didn't…" Her voice cracked and she turned away.

Anna's chest tightened so painfully that she had to press her hand against it. Elsa…felt something for her? Had wanted something to happen between them?

And she'd blown it with her drunken self-indulgence and childish temper tantrum.

 _Will I ever stop fucking things up?_

Her conscience told her to get up and leave right then, so that Elsa didn't have to be reminded of what happened every time she looked at her. But who would protect Elsa if she left? "I understand if you want me to go. I just don't want to leave you alone…unprotected…you know… wi-with everything that's going on?"

 _Then again, she might think she needs protection from me more than she does from whoever's trying to kill her._

Elsa took two plates from the cabinet and spooned eggs onto them. When she turned around to put the plates on the bar, Anna saw the tears slide down her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them away.

"Elsa, I'm sorry." Anna wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to say that enough. Her eyes burned with the beginning of her own tears. "I'll go. Right now, if you want." She started to get up.

"You were drunk," Elsa said. She cut off Anna's protest with a wave. "I'm not saying that's an excuse, but I know you never would've done it if you weren't. I could have stopped you if I'd tried." She looked down at the countertop. "And…I think that what I've done to you is so much worse."

She turned away from Anna and stared out the kitchen window. Snow was falling outside, coming down in thick, fat flakes that made Anna feel like she was trapped inside a snow globe. Elsa wrapped her arms around herself, and Anna shivered. She took a quick gulp of coffee. Was she imagining things, or had it just abruptly gotten colder?

When Elsa spoke again, her voice sounded far away. "When I was little, I had my whole life planned out. I would become an architect, and take over the family business. I would make sure that everyone in Arendelle had a beautiful house to live in. I would marry my white knight. He had freckles and blue eyes, and rode a banana-seat bicycle, and we would be in love forever. It all seemed so simple when I was seven years old."

She turned back to Anna, finally wiping at her tear-streaked face. "But I have this life instead. I think maybe I even did a little bit of good, even if I did it illegally? And then I ruined everything." She rounded the bar to stand next to Anna. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, Anna. I was selfish. I took away your choices. I took your _life_."

"Elsa…" Anna squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn't stop her own tears from falling. Then there were cool hands cradling her face, thumbs wiping her tears away. Warm lips brushed against her forehead, and she drew in a shuddering breath, trying to keep from breaking down.

"I don't want you to leave," Elsa whispered.

Anna thought she felt a faint touch of those warm lips against hers, then Elsa's hands were gone. When she opened her eyes again, Elsa was fleeing up the staircase.

"Elsa!" She jumped off the stool and ran after her. _Oh, bad idea_. She dropped to her knees at the bottom of the stairs, clutching at her throbbing head. Her stomach rolled, and she thought she might be sick again.

 _Don't puke, don't puke…_

She rested her forehead against the bottom step. Her skin pressed against something freezing cold, and she opened her eyes in confusion. The step was coated in a thin layer of ice.

 _What the…?_

She lifted her eyes. Ice patches covered every step on the curved staircase. Fighting her nausea and headache, she gingerly picked her way to the top, but by the time she reached the landing of the upper hallway, the ice was gone. Only the unusual coolness of the wood floor hinted that the ice had ever been there at all. Anna rubbed her eyes. Had she imagined it? Some sort of hallucination from too much booze and too little sleep?

One hand pressed to her aching head, Anna made her way down the hall. She knocked on Elsa's door. "Elsa?" No response. She knocked again. "Elsa, please, I know you're in there." Silence. She tried the door. Locked. She leaned against it. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? You said you didn't want me to leave, so I'm not leaving. I'm right out here for you."

She turned and slid down onto the floor, her back propped against the door. Elsa couldn't stay in her room forever, and Anna wanted be there when she came out. Wanted to know – no, had to know – if she had a chance to make it right. To know if there was something to justify that little flicker of hope that she felt from Elsa's words.

Drifting into the semi-aware state between sleep and wakefulness, Anna tried to sort out all that had happened - their argument, drinking, Elsa's room, the maybe-ice, everything blending together in a mix of alcohol and confusion and anger and shame. And _want_. And not quite lost in the turmoil, a hint of something _more_. Answers seemed to flit in and out of some barely-lucid part of her mind, dancing away before she could latch onto them. Finally, the events and emotions of the past day caught up with her, and she slipped into a dreamless sleep, still leaning against the door.

* * *

 _A/N: I know I'm a little behind my normal posting schedule. Real life is a bear sometimes. I also have a few side projects going on. Thanks for sticking with me!_

 _For anyone who's interested, I've created a page on my Tumblr for this story. It has pics of Elsa's house, some background on Arendelle and its government, and some awesome fan art by Tumblr user nopantsparade! I'll probably post some other backstory elements and pics on it - helps keep me focused! I know links don't work here, but the URL is thegeekogecko DOT tumblr DOT com/The Once and Future Queen._


	28. Chapter 28

_Disclaimer: Frozen (still) belongs to Disney_

* * *

 _Things fall apart; the center cannot hold_

Ever since the meeting with Erikksen, the line had rolled through Hans' thoughts again and again, like a song set on a continuous loop. The earworm from hell. It had only gotten worse since then, especially after an unexpected phone call from his brother Gerhard.

"There are some anomalies in your books, Hans," his third-oldest brother had said. "I'm sending Reinhardt and two accountants to do an audit. We don't need to run afoul of the tax laws, either here or in Arendelle."

His smug arrogance goaded Hans into an impotent fury that still had him quivering. _I told Father that you weren't ready yet. You're not capable of handling the responsibility._

Gerhard would eat those words one day, Hans swore to himself.

He turned up the collar of his raincoat against the chill breeze coming in off the fjord. The main charm of the trendy bistros that dotted the waterfront was atmosphere, not food, and most of the atmosphere came from patio dining. He ducked under the awning of the Selvgode Café and Dessertery and shook out his umbrella before closing it. That clearly would not be happening today.

He considered calling Margareta and suggesting a different place, but it was notoriously difficult to get a table at Selvgode, and she would be suitably impressed. Besides, she was already here – he spotted her through the glass of the front door, standing by the hostess station. She saw him and gave him a little wave.

His phone buzzed right when he reached for the door. He frowned as he fished it out of his pocket and saw the number on the screen. Now what? He smiled at Margareta and held up one finger apologetically. "Westergard," he snapped into the phone.

"What?!" Hans almost dropped the phone when the caller reported that Agdar Erikksen had seemingly vanished, right from under the noses of both his watchers and those from the National Police. He had last been seen going into a hearing room at the Nasjonsting, but he had never come out.

"Find him!" Hans roared into the phone. He hung up, battling the urge to smash the phone into the sidewalk. He ran a hand through his hair and paced under the awning. What was Erikksen's game? Had he simply decided to make his escape early? Or was there something else? Had he managed to make contact with Elsa Kjarensen? That would be devastating for his plans, particularly if Kjarensen was still with Anna Aarndahl. An information exchange between the three of them would be very bad for Hans.

Hans stopped pacing and took a deep breath. _Calm down and think_. He looked across the street and saw a businessman hail a taxi, his briefcase held over his head as a shield against the rain.

 _The briefcase_.

Hans' jaw dropped. _The damn briefcase!_ The one that he and the Weasel had given to Erikksen, with the backup recorder in it. The conversation in the car. They'd admitted to the killing of the NP agent. Erikksen had conned Hans and Weselton into betraying themselves, and then recorded them with their own equipment.

The story of the trees and the axe…Erikksen had actually _told_ them what he was doing! Hans and the Weasel themselves had provided Erikksen with the very tool he needed to destroy them. Hans loosened his tie as his chest constricted in panic and he struggled to breathe.

 _Sonofabitch!_

He grabbed at his phone, his hands trembling. His fingers shook so badly that he made three wrong calls before he touched the correct contact. "His briefcase," he growled into the handset, trying to keep his voice steady. "It has a digital recorder in it. It must be destroyed. You _have_ to find it. And him."

He shoved the phone into his pocket and slumped against a wall, his heart racing. Erikksen was running loose with evidence that could destroy everything Hans had worked for. All his plans, his ambitions. It was one thing for Reinhardt to go nosing around in his ledgers; that could be plausibly explained away with only minor embarrassment, and if his plan succeeded, Hans could lord in triumph over his older brothers and bask in the admiration of his father.

But Erikksen could take him down hard with this, especially if he managed to find Kjarensen and Anna, and they went to the NPs together. Hans would go to prison. But that would be nothing compared to the humiliation he would suffer at the hands of his family if he failed.

Prison would be preferable.

Hans closed his eyes and tried to get control of his breathing. _It will not end like this, Hans,_ he told himself. _You've worked too hard. You will not be denied your place in history. These petty, insignificant people will not beat you. Now think!_

Slowly and steadily, his breathing returned to normal and his head cleared. Maybe Erikksen was just using the recording as insurance. After all, if he went to the National Police, he would go down as well. Erikksen wasn't stupid; he undoubtedly had a bailout plan, one that likely included a new identity and a numbered account somewhere. Why risk going to the dungeons when he could simply disappear? He had as much to lose as Hans and the Weasel. Surely he wouldn't go to the authorities out of spite.

Or would he?

The painting! Was that what this was about? Erikksen had been practically quivering with fury when he got in the car, demanding to know where it was. Maybe that had started this whole thing. Taking the painting had been Weselton's idea – "sending a message," he'd called it.

 _Idiot_. As if Erikksen needed a reminder of how deep he was in. Taking the painting had only goaded him. He called Weselton.

"Return the painting."

"…because all it did was piss him off, that's why. He's disappeared."

"…calm down, we'll find him. Now return the damn painting. And call him and tell him that you did."

Definitely time to part ways with the Weasel.

Hans made one more call, then relaxed, his confidence restored. This was why he had backup plans. And backup plans for those backup plans. He would find Erikksen, and with any luck, Kjarensen and Anna as well.

He smoothed his hair in the reflection of the bistro window, then went went inside to greet Margareta with a smile and a kiss.

* * *

Kristoff got out of the car in front of Rider's Motorcycles and looked around in disbelief. He stared at the front of the dilapidated tavern next door, trying to imagine Elsa Kjarensen ever setting foot into such a place. Hell, he couldn't picture Elsa coming anywhere near this side of the city, much less doing business with any of these…establishments.

"This is the last place," Kai said, checking his list.

"Aarndahl's cousin?" Kristoff asked.

"Yes. A Rapunzel Fitzherbert."

"Hopefully, she'll be a little more helpful than the others."

Kristoff and Kai had been all over the city, looking for something, anything, that might lead them to Elsa Kjarensen. It was like chasing smoke. Elsa had no family; an only child, she'd lost both of her parents before she reached legal adulthood. Her last remaining relative, an aged aunt, had passed away more than five years ago. Visits to her home and office had proven fruitless. Elsa kept to herself, with no significant other and no friends to speak of. The neighbors only saw and spoke to her in passing, and while she occasionally went out with colleagues after work, the gatherings were mostly business.

So they'd turned their attention to Anna Aarndahl, and she was proving to be almost as difficult. Neither Olaf nor his mother had any idea where she might have gone. They didn't know of any particular friends she might have, since she worked such odd hours. Olaf mentioned an ex-boyfriend, but didn't know where he lived or even his last name. He added that the ex was "really mean," and "Anna said she was never going near him again."

They tracked down Aarndahl's guardians, an aunt and uncle, who claimed they hadn't seen Aarndahl more than a handful of times since her discharge from the Army, the last time being more than six months ago.

"We get concerned about Anna," said the aunt, a petite brunette with worry lines around her green eyes. "She's always been angry and unsettled. We tried to do what we thought was best for her, but we just never knew how to deal with her. She only comes to visit when our daughter drags her here."

So they'd gotten the address of Aarndahl's cousin, and here they were.

"Are you sure this is the right place, Kai? I thought they said their daughter was an artist."

"Her husband owns the motorcycle shop," Kai replied. "Her studio must be in the apartment above it." He pointed toward the second floor of Rider's.

They went into the shop. The young woman at the counter looked up when the bell over the door tinkled. Slender, with bright green eyes and an unruly bob of brown hair, she was a dead ringer for Aarndahl's aunt. This had to be the cousin.

"Hi, welcome to Rider's! Can I help you?"

"I hope so, ma'am. We're with the National Police." Kai showed her his creds. "Are you Rapunzel Fitzherbert?"

"Yes," the young woman replied, an exasperated expression flitting across her face as she looked at the creds. "Please tell me this isn't about Eugene."

Kai quirked an eyebrow and shot a look at Kristoff, who said, "No, actually, we're here about your cousin. Anna Aarndahl?"

"What about Anna? Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"Honestly, we're not sure. Have you seen her recently?"

She shook her head. "I haven't. But Eugene mentioned that she came by a couple of days ago." She looked apologetic. "I was out on a parts run. Eugene fired our last office assistant for stealing petty cash."

"Eugene is your husband?"

"Yes."

"Did he say why Miss Aarndahl came by?"

"No," she said, furrowing her brow. "He didn't mention anything specific. I just assumed she was in the area and decided to drop in for a few minutes. She does that sometimes."

"We should talk to your husband, then, Mrs. Fitzherb - " Kai began.

"Rapunzel."

" – Rapunzel. Is he here?"

"He's in the repair bay. I'll get him." She slipped off the stool, her hand moving to rest over the small but distinct bump at her lower abdomen as she went to the back corner of the office and opened the top half of a divided wooden door. "Eugene! Could you come up here for a few minutes?"

So Aarndahl had been here. But she hadn't lingered long enough to see her cousin. In a hurry and looking for wheels, maybe? Kristoff wondered if Rapunzel's husband had seen Elsa as well.

"Do you see your cousin often, Mrs. Fitzh - Rapunzel?" Kai asked as she returned to the counter.

She pulled a face. "Not as often as I'd like," she said with a sigh. "Anna can be…difficult. She's my cousin, but she's also my foster sister, and she…well, it's complicated. I think she feels closer to Eugene than to me."

A good-looking, dark-haired man stuck his head through the open half of the door. "What's up, Blondie?" he said to Rapunzel.

" _Blondie_?" Kristoff asked, cutting his eyes between them.

"It's a long story." Rapunzel patted her hair and looked a bit sheepish. "Eugene, these men want to talk to you about Anna."

Kai showed his creds. Fitzherbert's eyes tightened briefly as he studied them, but he stepped into the office, wiping his hands on a rag.

"We understand that Miss Aarndahl came to see you recently," Kai said. Fitzherbert nodded. "When, exactly, was she here?"

"A few days ago."

"Can you be more specific?"

"No."

"And what did she want?"

"Just stopped by to say hi. She was in the neighborhood." Fitzherbert's nonchalance seemed forced.

"Eugene…" Rapunzel said, and Kristoff could hear a warning edge in her voice.

"Why?" Fitzherbert tossed the rag into a bin, then went to the vending machine and banged it with the heel of his palm. A bottle of Solo dropped out. He twisted the cap off as he moved to the counter. He slid onto a stool next to his wife, giving the two agents an appraising look.

Something about the man set Kristoff's teeth on edge. "Look, Fitzherbert - "

Kai put a restraining hand on his arm. "Mr. Fitzherbert, we're not as interested in Miss Aarndahl as we are the young woman who may be accompanying her. Did she have someone with her when she came to see you?"

Fitzherbert took a pull on his soda and studied them with sharp brown eyes. "Yeah," he said finally. "There was a woman with her."

Kai took out a couple of photos of Elsa, pulled from the airport surveillance system, and handed them over.

Fitzherbert nodded as he stared at them. "That's her, all right. Tried to sell her a bike, but she gave me a serious cold shoulder."

"You tried to sell her a bike?"

"Yeah, she was hanging around in the lot, so I figured I could interest her in a nice ride. Hot chick, kind of classy-looking, even with that hat. I thought she'd look good on one of the BMWs."

Kristoff and Kai exchanged a quick glance. "So she was out in the lot by herself?" he asked. "Where was Miss Aarndahl?"

"Probably looking for me." Fitzherbert took another swig of his soda. "So what did she do?"

"Who said she did anything?" Kristoff said hotly. The man was getting under his skin in a hurry.

"Well, you said you weren't really interested in Anna. If this other chick didn't do anything, then why is she running from you?"

"She's a material witness in a sensitive investigation," Kai said. "There are some very dangerous people looking for her, Mr. Fitzherbert, and if Miss Aarndahl is with her, then…" he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Rapunzel grabbed her husband's arm. "Eugene, if you know something, you have to tell them."

"Goddamnit, Squirt…" Fitzherbert ran a hand through his hair. "All right, yeah, they came by because they needed wheels. Anna was in a hurry, didn't want to wait to see if I could get her car, so I gave her a bike."

"What kind of bike?" Kai asked.

"Honda Rebel." Fitzherbert said. His wife rifled through a stack of brochures on the counter and slid one over.

Kai picked up and scanned it. "We're going to need a color and a plate number."

"Green, just like the one in the brochure. Blondie, can you look up the plate number?"

"Yes." Rapunzel hopped off her stool and went to the desk behind the counter.

"Did Miss Aarndahl say where they were going?" Kai asked.

"No. I asked, but she blew me off. But the Rebel's not really a long distance bike. They'll be pretty uncomfortable if they're going a long way."

"Did you give her anything besides the bike? Did she have a map, or anything else that might indicate where they were going?"

"I gave her a couple of helmets and heavyweight suits." Fitzherbert rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

Kristoff was immediately suspicious. "What else?" he demanded, looming over the counter.

Fitzherbert just gave him an unimpressed look and shook his head. Kristoff twitched with the urge to smash the man's pretty face against the counter.

"Back off, Kristoff," Kai said, shooting him a look that clearly said _let me handle this_. Kristoff crossed his arms and fumed. Kai studied Fitzherbert carefully. "Mr. Fitzherbert, the more you can tell us, the faster we can get out of your hair. I would hate to have to come back with a warrant. A squad of National Police agents rifling through your property might be detrimental to your business."

That got Fitzherbert's attention. "You can't do that!"

Kai straightened the brochures on the counter. "You'd be amazed at what we can do in an investigation of this importance. But why hide information about Miss Aarndahl? I can't emphasize enough how vital it is that we find her and her companion, for their safety, if nothing else."

"But - "

"You _do_ care about Miss Aarndahl, do you not? I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous these people are." Kai shot a pointed glance at Rapunzel's protruding abdomen as she returned to the counter with a computer printout. "If they find out that Miss Aarndahl came here…"

Fitzherbert's eyes widened, and Kristoff thought maybe they'd finally gotten through to him.

"Eugene, you tell them whatever it is," Rapunzel ordered.

Fitzherbert ran his hand over her face. "Fine. I gave her a gun." Kai made a 'give me more' gesture. "An unlicensed, unregistered .45. She said she'd lost hers, and needed one. She was very insistent."

Kristoff looked at him with contempt. "You supplied her with an illegal firearm? And you didn't ask questions, right?"

"Actually, I did," Fitzherbert flared. "Anna said it was better if I didn't know. Besides, you never really need a gun until you _really need_ a gun."

"Ammunition?"

"Yeah, a full box."

Kai stretched out his hand, and Rapunzel handed him the printout. "Thank you for your cooperation." He took out a business card and slid it across the counter. "If you hear from Miss Aarndahl, please give us a call."

Rapunzel nodded. "You'll let us know what happens, Agent Haugland?"

Kai smiled at her. "Yes, ma'am, we will."

When they settled back in the car, Kai said, "It doesn't look like Aarndahl is dragging Kjarensen along against her will. She left her alone in the bike lot. She could have escaped at that point."

"Yeah," Kristoff agreed. "They look like they're at least cooperating. Or Aarndahl may see herself as Elsa's protector. But we still don't know where they went."

"Let's see if we can narrow it down. Fitzherbert said the motorcycle he gave them wasn't really designed for long trips. Now, that doesn't mean they couldn't do it, but we know they weren't carrying a lot with them."

Kristoff scratched his chin. "Elsa bought two tickets to Gjoheim. Maybe they went there."

"Perhaps. So why there? What's in Gjoheim?"

"It's kind of a gateway to the mountain resorts, isn't it?"

"Yes. Wealthy area. A lot of small towns that cater to the exclusive resorts. And a lot of expensive mountain houses."

Kristoff groaned. "There are hundreds - maybe thousands - of vacation houses between all those little towns."

"Well, Kjarensen has plenty of money – one look at her townhouse makes that obvious. If I were her, I would have a safe house under my alias in case things went south."

"I had the data guys start a search for other properties that she might own. They could narrow the scope to the Gjoheim area."

"Good idea." Kai made the call. When he hung up, he said, "In the meantime, we can head for Gjoheim and ask around. We have the motorcycle's plate number and photos of our two ladies. Maybe we'll get lucky, and someone has seen them."

"I'm not supposed to leave the area," Kristoff reminded him.

"You can go anywhere as long as I'm with you." Kai put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

"What about backup?"

Kai side-eyed him. "Well, if you really want to, I suppose we could call Sinclair and Chifu and let them take all the credit."

Kristoff grinned. "Let's go grab my stakeout bag and then we can roll."

* * *

 _A/N: Everyone's converging - could be a party soon. Thanks for sticking with me, and a big thanks to all of you who left reviews!_


	29. Chapter 29

_Disclaimer: Disney's property, yadda yadda yadda_

* * *

The sun was sinking behind the mountains when Elsa finally eased open the door to her room. She half-expected to find Anna still propped against it – the younger woman was nothing if not stubborn – but she wasn't there. Elsa made her way downstairs, listening for any sounds that might tell her where Anna was, but she heard nothing but her own quiet footsteps.

 _Did she leave?_

Elsa's stomach sank as she looked around the empty kitchen. Not that she would blame Anna for leaving, even if she left for the wrong reasons. Like thinking that Elsa wanted her to go, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. But Anna had every right to be angry; Elsa had put her in a terrible position. The most logical thing for her to do would be to return to the city and call the National Police. Turn Elsa in and see if she could get her life back.

She hadn't heard the motorcycle, which had to be a good sign, right? Elsa had almost panicked when the sound of an engine had reached her bedroom earlier. She had raced to the window, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Oaken on his plow, clearing the new snow off the road that led to her house. But she had waited by the window anyway, wondering if Anna would take advantage of the newly-cleared road to head back down the mountain.

Elsa searched every room on the main floor, but saw no signs of Anna anywhere. _Where is she? She said she wasn't leaving!_ Elsa stood in front of the picture window in the great room, trying to control her mounting anxiety.

Had Anna changed her mind? Surely she would have waited until the weather cleared – it had been snowing off and on all day long - or at least until she felt better. Then again, if Anna was anything, she was impulsive. Action without thought. Which was what had led to this whole situation in the first place. Anna angry and drinking, storming into her bedroom…Elsa closed her eyes as she recalled Anna standing over her bed, wearing nothing but her underwear, her chest heaving and the color high in her cheeks. Just remembering how those sea-blue eyes raked over her, the desire in them so obvious, set _something_ humming just under her skin like a low-voltage live wire. She'd started to reach out her hand, so ready to stop fighting it, whatever _it_ was, and invite Anna in, when Anna crawled onto her bed and loomed over her, soaking wet and smelling of liquor and chlorine –

 _The pool_. Elsa almost ran to the solarium, where she let out a long breath at the sight of Anna sleeping on one of the lounge chairs. _Oh, thank God_.

Elsa covered her smile with her hand as she moved to stand over the other woman. Anna had one arm thrown over her head, her cheek resting against it, soft snores escaping through her open mouth with each gentle rise and fall of her chest. Elsa just watched her for a few minutes, a warm glow building in her own chest. Still wearing the oversized sweatshirt and her face relaxed in slumber, Anna looked so vulnerable, and even younger than she actually was.

Too young to be doing the work that she did. Too young to be entangled in the mess that Elsa had made. Too young to have her life stolen from her.

 _She's so beautiful_. Elsa knelt down next to the lounge chair and reached out a tentative hand, hesitating just for a moment before giving into the impulse. Her fingers grazed over Anna's cheek, and up to brush the copper-colored bangs off her face. The move uncovered the healing cut on her forehead. Elsa traced the edges of it with a fingertip. Then, giving into another impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to it. There was a snuffling sound, and when she pulled back, she found Anna looking up at her with sleepy sea-blue eyes.

"Hi," she said, giving Elsa a lazy smile.

"Hi." Suddenly nervous, Elsa sat back on her heels and wrung her hands together. "Um…how do you feel?"

"With my hands?" Anna grinned at Elsa's startled expression.

"Smart ass." Elsa rolled her eyes. "Clearly, you feel better."

"Yeah, lots better, actually." Anna sat up, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Elsa swallowed a giggle. _Cute_.

"I thought I might find you still leaning on my door."

"Well, I was there for a while," Anna said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I got a crick. And then I thought maybe I should, you know, give you some space, so I decided to do something constructive, for once."

"Constructive?"

Anna gestured at her pistol, which lay on a low table beside her, amongst a scattering of oily cloth squares and wire brushes. "Yeah, I cleaned my .45. And I cleaned the kitchen. I also, uh," she looked down at her lap, toying with one of her braids, "scrubbedthecarpetthatIdirtieduplastnight."

"What?" Elsa cocked one brow in confusion.

Anna flushed red. "I, um, tracked dirty slush all over your carpet. So I scrubbed it. I promise I'll pick up all the beer cans I threw around too, they're just buried under too much snow right now." She looked up at Elsa, biting her lip.

"Oh." Now it was Elsa's turn to look away. "When I came downstairs and couldn't find you right away…I thought you'd left." She twisted her hands together.

"Elsa, I told you I wasn't going to leave." Anna reached out and took one of her hands. "Why didn't you believe me?"

"I – I…" Elsa's breath caught when Anna started tracing soft circles around the bruises on her wrist with a fingertip. She swallowed hard as that internal humming started again, a low-level energy pulsing under her skin in time with her heartbeat. A heartbeat that skittered when Anna pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist, mumbling something that might have been yet another apology before lifting her gaze to meet Elsa's.

Elsa darted out her tongue to wet suddenly-dry lips, not missing the way Anna's eyes flicked down to watch, the way they darkened, the way her cheeks pinkened before her eyes flicked back up again. The air between them seemed heavy and charged.

"Anna…" She trailed off as Anna leaned in, so close now that she could feel Anna's breath over her lips, smell hints of earth and grass, and that sunshine _-y_ scent that was uniquely Anna, and she let her eyes slide shut in anticipation.

"Can I…?" Anna whispered.

"Please…"

Their lips met with a slight bumping of noses, and Elsa's heart threatened to thunder right out of her chest. Anna's mouth was soft on hers, sweeping away the exhaustion, pain, and fear of the past few days, and wrapping her in a blanket of sensations. Fingertips slipping along her jaw. Warm breath on her cheek. Lips sliding against hers as Anna tilted her head to deepen the kiss. Elsa's whole body trembled, and if she hadn't already been on her knees, she was sure she would have collapsed.

When they finally parted, Elsa kept her eyes closed, her breath coming in quick puffs. Butterflies flapped wildly in her belly.

Anna cleared her throat. Elsa opened her eyes to see her biting her lip, an uncertain look on her face. "Was that…okay?" Anna asked.

Elsa nodded, not sure she could trust her voice. _That was…amazing? Wonderful? Perfect?_

Anna tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a little grin. "I've been wanting to do that for…well, for a couple of days, at least."

Something inside Elsa seemed to unknot. "You've only known me for a couple of days."

"I know, right? But it seems like longer. But that could be because I've been following you for a while, and maybe that makes it feel like I've known you longer, and I know that sounds kind of stalker-ish, and I don't know, maybe it is kind of stalker-ish, but it's my job, and - "

Elsa chuckled and put a finger to Anna's lips to cut off the verbal hemorrhage. "I understand."

"Anyway, it just seems like we've been dancing around this, this _thing_ , whatever it is, you know, and I thought maybe last night…you know…be-before I screwed it up…"

"Anna, it's okay. It's in the past. And, well, we've both done some things we're not proud of." She took Anna's hand, shivering a little as Anna's thumb immediately started stroking her knuckles. "If you want…I thought we might go out." Her voice caught, and she coughed to cover it. "To dinner. Get out of the house for a bit. It could be like a fresh start?"

She met Anna's eyes, and it took all of her willpower not to get lost in their sea-blue depths.

"That sounds great," Anna said with a smile, and pulled her in for another kiss.

* * *

"Elsa, are you sure about this?" Anna stopped the motorcycle and flipped up the faceplate of her helmet, casting a skeptical eye at the crowd spilling out of the large restaurant.

"It will be fine," Elsa said. She tightened her arms around Anna's waist as the motorcycle started moving again, easing into the parking lot.

The restaurant's theme was distinctly Old Arendelle. It was built in the rustic timber style of old mountain cabins, with a wooden sign that said "Wandering Oaken's" hanging over the porch. Two carved-wood trolls stood guard on either side of the front door. Inside, the walls were dotted with an assortment of traditional artwork, with depictions of reindeer herding and pagan gods. Ice harvesting tools and mountain trekking gear completed the theme.

The servers were outfitted in traditional costumes, with bright embroidered tunics, sashes, and boots with upturned toes. Elsa and Anna's server was a strapping man with light brown hair and a reddish beard, who looked far too muscular to simply be waiting tables for a living. He took their drink orders, then proceeded to sing the day's specials in a pleasant baritone.

When he was gone, Anna and Elsa looked at each other. Anna snorted, then started snickering. Elsa's hand flew to her mouth, but Anna's laughter was contagious, and soon they were both cackling madly. Elsa put one arm across her cramping belly, almost doubling over.

"I think we both needed that," Anna gasped, wiping at her eyes as her laughter subsided. "Honestly, Elsa, why here? It's so… _cheesy_."

Elsa swiped at her own eyes and straightened up. "Well, knowing what you know about me, would you look for me here?"

"No," Anna admitted.

"Exactly. Oaken's partner owns this place, but I've never actually been here. It caters to tourists, so it's unlikely that anyone will will recognize me, or that I will see anyone I know." She grinned at Anna's surprised expression. "And since I can't vouch for the quality of the food, I'll just apologize now in case it turns out to be…well, less than stellar."

The food turned out to be surprisingly good. They were there for two pleasant stolen hours, talking, laughing, trying to learn more about each other. Elsa listened, fascinated, to stories of Anna's childhood, so different from her own, spent a house filled with laughter and fun and the kind of love that Elsa hadn't experienced since her mother died. Or Anna's childhood had been that way, up until her parents' car crash, when she suddenly landed with relatives who didn't – couldn't – give her what she needed.

"It wasn't her fault, it's not like she _asked_ to be taken," Anna was saying. "But she was gone for so many years, and they got her back right when I went to live with them, and they just didn't have time for me. So I guess I just…acted out. Tried to get their attention, you know? In the worst possible ways." She looked down and pushed her food around with her fork.

Elsa's heart ached as she pictured the twelve year-old Anna, looking for comfort after the loss of her parents and receiving little more than indifference as her aunt and uncle celebrated their own daughter's return. No, it wasn't her cousin's fault, but Anna had been a grieving child. She could hardly be blamed for projecting her anger and resentment and heartbreak onto the most obvious target.

She reached across the table, a bit hesitantly, and put her hand over Anna's. "It's not your fault either, Anna."

"What?"

"You were a child. You were in pain and dealt with it the only way you knew how." She squeezed Anna's hand briefly and started to pull away, but Anna caught her hand and held it.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Deal with it. You lost your parents too, and you didn't turn into a delinquent troublemaker."

Elsa kept her eyes on their linked hands. "I…didn't, really. Deal with it, I mean. I shut myself off. Tried to be the perfect daughter. I thought if I was perfect, my father would stop leaving me all the time. Stay home. Climb out of the bottle. Obviously, it didn't work."

She could feel Anna's eyes on her. She tried to tug her hand away, but Anna wouldn't let go, shifting her grip to lace their fingers together.

"Hey," Anna said, dipping her head so that she could look Elsa in the face. "It's okay. Nobody can be perfect, especially not a kid."

Elsa didn't meet her eyes. "I think…in a way, I'm broken inside. I can't… _connect_ with people. I never learned how."

"Hey. Look at me." Anna's voice was sharper this time, and Elsa looked up to see her lift one russet brow. "Then what do you call this? What's happening here? Is this all in my head?" She motioned between them with a single finger.

Elsa's pulse skipped. "No."

Anna beamed. "Good."

They finished their meal, and Elsa paid in cash, leaving a generous tip for their singing waiter. The restaurant was located right on the lakefront, and they went down to the raised boardwalk. It seemed the snow had moved on – the night air was clear and crisp, the mountains and the moon reflecting off the lake's crystal surface. They had the boardwalk to themselves, and they followed it along the shore, leaving behind the dull roar of the restaurant and enjoying the peaceful evening.

They stopped when they reached a place where the boardwalk jutted out over the lake. Elsa leaned her elbows on the railing. She smiled a little when Anna rested against it too, her shoulder pressing into Elsa's.

"Going out was a good idea," Anna said. "It's almost like a getting a do-over."

"I think so, too." Elsa stared at the lights of the town across the lake. "But what do we do now?"

Anna sighed. "As amazing as it is here, I don't think we can stay. They'll find us eventually."

"Where, then?"

"Well, I've been thinking…."

When she didn't elaborate, Elsa nudged her shoulder. "You didn't strain yourself, did you?" she asked with a little smirk.

"God, the sass from you." Anna wrinkled her nose in mock dismay, then turned toward Elsa, propping herself on one arm. "I have a friend, well, not really a friend, more of an acquaintance, he's a friend of Eugene's – well, not really a friend of his either, more like a…business associate. Anyway, he lives in Norway. If we can get across the border, he can probably help us get to the Continent, or maybe even to America."

Elsa pondered that for a moment. "And then what? Two fugitives from justice with God knows who else looking for them?"

Anna tilted her head. "Well, we both have some marketable skills, and with new identities, I'm sure we can find expat communities. Money might be a problem initially."

"No, it won't. I have money."

"But can you get it? I'm sure the National Police have tagged your accounts by now."

"The money I'm talking about is in a numbered Swiss account."

Anna's eyes widened. "Are those really a thing?"

Elsa couldn't help but smile at her expression. "Yes, they really are."

"Wow. Wait, you don't have to go to Switzerland to get the money, do you?"

"No. I went there to open the account, but I have a fiduciary there who handles the transactions for me. I just call him and tell him where I want the money wired, and he takes care of it. I've tested it a couple of times, and it works."

"Where will you wire it to? You can't exactly put it in Elsa Kjarensen's bank account."

"I'll wire it to LDG's corporate account here. I can access the money as a signatory officer. That will give us something to start with." Elsa wrung her hands. It might be a feasible plan, but could she really do this to Anna? Take her away from Arendelle, from everything she'd ever known? However dysfunctional it was, Anna still had family here. Friends. People she cared about, and who cared about her.

Anna picked up on her uncertainty. "What is it?"

"Anna, once the money gets here…you can have half of it. Go back to Arendelle City and get your life back. You shouldn't have to do this."

"Elsa, we've talked about this."

"No, we haven't!" Elsa hunched in, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I didn't give you any choices. I'll call Agent Bjorgman and tell him that you're not involved, that you were just helping me."

"Elsa- "

"And then I slipped away from you. You can go back home, Anna. Get out of this nightmare and live your life."

Anna's hands were on her arms, turning her so they were face-to-face. "I thought you didn't want me to leave."

Elsa cringed at the hurt in Anna's voice. "I don't, but - "

"Then I'm not leaving," Anna said firmly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Anna ran her hands gently up and down Elsa's arms. "Look, Elsa, I know you want to do what you think is right for me. But it's not right for you. I mean, if you really _want_ me to leave, I'll go." She flashed a grin. "Even then, I'll probably stalk you to make sure you're okay."

Elsa chuckled. "I don't doubt it."

"Good." Anna leaned against the railing, staring out over the lake. "I know I'll miss Arendelle. It's home. But at some point last night, I had a moment of drunken clarity. I wasn't pissed because you took away my life. I was pissed because I realized the life I was trying to get back to really isn't much of one to begin with." She glanced up at Elsa, then studied her feet.

Elsa felt a rush of sympathy and gratitude. She reached out and gently lifted Anna's chin. "Anna, I can never thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

Anna met her eyes and they just stared at each other for several heartbeats. Then Anna's lips were on hers, fingers slipping along her jaw to tangle in the hair at her nape. A small whimper escaped Elsa's throat as Anna pulled her close. Unlike the soft, sweet kisses they'd shared earlier, this one was tongue and teeth and _heat_ , and Elsa groaned as their bodies pressed together in a solid line from chest to thigh.

Her hands tangled in Anna's hair as her back hit the rail. Anna's lips left hers to trace a fiery trail along her jaw. She gasped at the hot flick of a tongue against the sensitive spot behind her jaw, and heard a frustrated grunt as Anna tugged impatiently at her coat, followed by a contented hum as a hand slipped under it to circle around her back.

"Anna…" she breathed, tipping her head back as Anna laid hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat. She barely had time to moan before there was a nip at her pulse point, and her knees almost buckled when warm fingers slid under her blouse and skimmed over the skin above the waistband of her jeans.

Then Anna's mouth was back on hers, gentler this time. Her lips parted, and Anna's tongue slipped in to taste her. Their tongues brushed, sending a shudder through her body. She broke the kiss and rested her forehead against Anna's.

"Anna…" she murmured, her breath hitching as warm fingers stroked her back, "please…take me home."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So I guess this is kinda what everyone's been waiting on?_


	30. Chapter 30

_Disclaimer: Frozen, Disney, blah, blah, blah_

 _Chapter warnings: NSFW. This chapter is completely SWP, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. If that's not your thing, you can skip this without losing any vital parts of the story, and wait for the next update - Jae_

* * *

Elsa clung so tightly to Anna on the ride home that she wondered if she might suffocate her. Her whole body trembled as arousal, apprehension and giddy anticipation warred inside her. Could Anna feel her shaking? She thought maybe she could – one of Anna's hands kept dropping from the handlebars to find hers and squeeze it briefly.

She kept her hold on Anna even after the bike was parked in the garage, and Anna eventually had to extricate herself so that she could stand up and take her helmet off. She held out her hand to Elsa and smiled, those amazing eyes warm and welcoming, brimming with affection and more than a little desire. Elsa found her thoughts drifting back to her seven-year-old self, and to her freckle-faced knight with the sea-blue eyes. Was this the childhood romance finally consummated?

But Anna was no child. She was a grown woman, a beautiful woman, a unique woman in her own right.

She took Anna's hand and followed her up the stairs. It seemed to take forever, everything moving in slow motion despite the steady pull at her arm, the tap of their footfalls on the steps a deliberate counterpoint to her pulse pounding in her ears. She wondered if her quivering legs would support her all the way up to her bedroom.

When they reached the main floor, Anna pulled her in and kissed her, a bare brush of lips against hers that was both tender and almost unbearably erotic. It was all she could do to breathe, and then Anna was pressing closer and there were warm fingers tracing her jaw, and when she felt a wall against her back and the light touch of a tongue against her lips, she thought her knees might unlock completely.

They weren't going to make it to her bedroom after all.

The desperation of their kisses at the lake had passed. Where their earlier desire had been a thunderstorm, all clash and noise, this was like a steady spring rain, warm and gentle, soaking into their skin as it would a new garden. Anna's kisses were slow and lingering, her lips soft and relaxed as she pressed Elsa against the wall, her tongue coaxing Elsa's mouth open to slip inside and explore.

Elsa moaned. Anna tasted of red wine and the chocolate cake that they'd had for dessert, and she let her own tongue move to tentatively touch, wanting to taste more. She unwound Anna's braids, combing her fingers through the silky copper strands. A gentle tug earned her a low groan that sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she tightened her hold, bringing Anna closer to deepen the kiss.

She felt an insistent tug at her elbows and realized that Anna had pushed her coat off her shoulders and it had caught at the crooks of her arms. She dropped her hands to let the coat slide off fully. Anna broke the kiss, and then there were teeth nipping along Elsa's jaw and hands grabbing her hips to hold her firmly against the wall. Elsa's head dropped back, hitting the wall with a soft _thunk_ as Anna's lips traced the shell of her ear and those hands slid up and down her sides. Elsa arched as they inched higher and higher, whimpering when a thumb traced the underside of her breast.

"Anna…please."

That seemed to be what Anna was waiting for, because she heard a pleased hum against her ear, and then there was a hand cupping her breast, squeezing gently, thumb rubbing back and forth over her aching nipple. Another hand slipped under her blouse and skimmed along the top of her jeans, curious fingers dipping just under the waistband. Elsa's head swam; her breath came in shallow puffs, and she shoved Anna's coat off her shoulders, anxious to be rid of that barrier between them.

Anna dropped her arms to let Elsa push her coat off, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along her neck as she shucked the garment. Then Elsa felt teeth and lips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking and nibbling. Hands tracing over the curve of her rear, down the backs of her legs. With a single quick motion, Anna grasped the back of her thighs and lifted her off the floor. Elsa gasped, and her legs instinctively wrapped around Anna's waist.

 _How can someone so slender be so strong?_ It was incredibly arousing, and she caught Anna's lower lip between her own, scraping her teeth across it, then soothing it with her tongue. Anna let out a throaty moan that sent heat zinging through her body. She pressed Elsa harder against the wall, kissing her hungrily, hands sliding up under Elsa's backside to squeeze and knead.

"Hang on," Anna whispered. She pulled them away from the wall, her hands tightening on Elsa's rear to hold her up. Elsa wound her arms around Anna's neck and clung tightly as Anna carried her into the great room and lowered her onto the couch. There she slipped Elsa's boots off before kicking off her own and straddling Elsa's hips.

They stayed that way for several minutes, just looking at each other. Moonlight streamed through the picture window, casting Anna's finely-chiseled features in soft relief, and Elsa wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything quite so beautiful. She reached for one of Anna's hands, tracing her knuckles with a finger before turning it over to press a kiss to each fingertip and then to her palm. She felt Anna shiver, and looked up to see her hovering just above her, supporting her weight on one arm, those sea-blue eyes just inches away. Elsa caught her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes flicking from Anna's face down to their hands and back.

"Hey," Anna whispered, bringing Elsa's hand to her lips, "are you okay? You're shaking."

"I…I-I'm a little…nervous?" Elsa glanced up at Anna's face before focusing back on their hands. "I've never…done this before."

Anna's brow furrowed. "Never done wha – oh. _Oh_." Her eyes widened and she sat back. "Elsa, we don't have to - "

Elsa pressed her fingers to Anna's mouth. She _was_ nervous. But nervousness wasn't what was causing her heart to thump and her breath to hitch, wasn't what had loosed a million butterflies in her stomach or lit that ember burning low in her belly.

"I want to."

And she did. At that moment, she wasn't sure that she had ever wanted anything more.

She slid her hand over to caress a freckled cheek, then traced Anna's features, her finger gliding over russet brows, the small upturned nose, and bow-shaped lips before tucking a strand of copper-colored hair behind her ear. Keeping her eyes locked on Anna's, she pulled the other woman's hand over her breast and held it there, biting back a moan when she felt a gentle squeeze.

"I want _you_."

Anna's throat bobbed when Elsa curled one hand in her sweatshirt and tugged her closer. "I want you, too," she rasped out. "Jesus, you have no idea how bad I want you."

Then Anna's mouth was hot on hers, her tongue sweeping inside to tease along the roof of her mouth. Her hair fell around them like a coppery curtain, surrounding them with the intoxicating scents of grass and summer. Elsa was vaguely aware of Anna's body moving, stretching out and settling between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around the slim hips, letting out a low groan at the pressure against her center.

Anna left her lips and charted a course along her jaw and down her neck. Elsa slipped her hands under Anna's sweatshirt, tracing her fingertips up the ridges of her spine and delighting in the little shivers the movements caused. Anna buried her face in Elsa's neck, and Elsa flattened her palms over Anna's back and pressed her close, enjoying the sinuous feel of muscles moving under warm skin and the weight of Anna's body on top of hers. She giggled at the vibration of Anna's moan, a giggle lost in a gasp when she felt a sharp nip at her throat.

Then Anna shifted, her body moving away. Nimble fingers flicked open the buttons on Elsa's blouse and pushed it open, and she looked up to find those sea-blue eyes roving over her. The sheer level of _want_ in them threatened to chase every coherent thought from her head.

"You're so beautiful," Anna murmured. Her touch trailed over Elsa's sternum, fingertips tracing over her ribs and down the flat planes of her abdomen. Elsa's breath caught when the light touch teased the skin along the waistband of her jeans, and she swallowed hard when those fingers slid up between her breasts to toy with the clasp of her bra. Anna gave her a questioning look, and Elsa nodded her permission, biting her lip at the quiet _snik_ of the clasp unhooking.

Then a warm hand caressed her bare breasts, knuckles brushing the undersides, fingers drawing teasing circles around the peaks, sending spikes of arousal shooting straight to her core. Elsa closed her eyes and arched, searching for more contact, but Anna just slid her hand down, fingers tracing the lines of Elsa's ribs before slipping lower to pop the button on her jeans.

Elsa whimpered in frustration as Anna's playful touch roamed her torso, teasing, stroking, but never getting to exactly where she wanted. The throbbing at her center matched the pounding of her heart, and she tried to press her legs together, to get some relief. But Anna still lay between them, and when her thighs tightened around Anna's hips, the other woman bucked hard against her center.

Elsa's eyes flew open. Anna loomed above her, turquoise eyes now dark and raking over her with undisguised lust. One heartbeat passed, then two. And then Anna's mouth was on hers, hard and desperate, all teeth and tongue. The glowing ember in Elsa's belly flared bright and the heat spread like wildfire through her body as the teasing touches turned rough, grabbing, kneading, nails raking against her skin. She grabbed Anna's sweatshirt and yanked it up, breaking the kiss and growling when it snagged at Anna's shoulders.

"Off," she demanded hoarsely, hardly recognizing her own voice. She yanked at the sweatshirt again, consumed with the need to feel Anna's skin against hers.

The offending garment was stripped off and tossed aside, then Anna's skin was hot against hers, their bodies sliding together as their mouths met again. A low moan reached her ears, but she couldn't tell which one of them it came from. She wrapped her arms tight around Anna's back, reveling in the feel of strong muscles flexing under her hands and the glide of their bellies against each other, and she just wanted to hold Anna tighter, press her closer, to crawl inside her skin with her.

Anna left her mouth, nipping and sucking her way down Elsa's neck and chest. Some semi-lucid part of Elsa's brain registered that she was probably going to be covered with hickies and love bites tomorrow, but right now, she just didn't care. Anna buried her face in her cleavage, mouthing at her breasts before raking her tongue over the curve to lave around her nipple. Elsa cried out when Anna's lips closed over the straining peak, tongue pressing it against the roof of her mouth before suckling hard. She buried her fingers in Anna's hair and arched against her when teeth scraped across the sensitive tip.

Then she felt Anna's body shift again, and there was a hand meandering up the inside of her thigh, drawing random patterns over her denim-covered skin. Elsa tilted her hips in anticipation as that hand crawled higher, huffing in frustration when it bypassed her center to tease down the zipper of her jeans. Anna kissed her way down Elsa's torso, tracing the outline of her abs and dipping her tongue into her bellybutton before nipping at the skin right above her panties. Elsa tightened her hands in Anna's hair as the other woman nuzzled and kissed her over her panties before stripping her jeans down her legs.

Then…

 _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod –_

Anna was _everywhere_. Her lips and her teeth and her breath on Elsa's ear, on her neck, on her breasts, kissing, suckling, biting. Her hand slipped between Elsa's thighs, fingers stroking over her panties in a barely-there caress that had her hips jerking of their own accord. Elsa heard a pleading whine – _was that me?_ – and those fingers pressed and circled until it seemed that her entire world had shrunk to those few inches and Anna's magical touch. All of her senses reeled; she was lost in her own gasping breath, the heat and scent of Anna's body, the raspy voice in her ear whispering her name, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, and when Anna's hand slipped under her panties and those fingers curled inside her, it was all overwhelmed by pleasure crashing over her in powerful waves that left her body quaking and sparks exploding behind her closed lids.

When the trembling finally stopped and she was able to bring the world back into some kind of focus, the first thing Elsa was aware of was Anna murmuring in her ear, soft words of comfort and reassurance. They were on their sides, Elsa wrapped in Anna's arms, face buried in Anna's neck, Anna's fingers stroking her hair and caressing her back. She wanted to wrap her arms around Anna and hold her close, to squeeze her until she couldn't breathe, but her whole body felt boneless, and she wasn't sure she could move no matter how badly she wanted to.

"Hey."

There was a light kiss to her lips, and she raised heavy lids to see Anna smiling at her. "Hey yourself," she whispered.

"You okay?" Anna's fingers dusted across her brow and down her cheek.

"Oh my God, Anna," Elsa managed with a muted chuckle. "You have _no_ idea."

Anna gave her one of those cute little grins, and Elsa just had to kiss her. Then she closed her eyes and snuggled into Anna's body, sighing as Anna's hand moved in soothing strokes over her shoulders and down her back, briefly circling her hip before coming back to work her braid loose. She hummed with contentment when Anna's fingers combed through her unbound hair and gently massaged her scalp. "I didn't know it was possible to feel this good."

Then she found herself on her back, Anna on top of her and trailing kisses along her neck, one hand caressing her breast with a tender, almost possessive touch.

"I'd like to make you feel that good again," Anna murmured, dragging her lips up to Elsa's ear and taking the lobe between her teeth. Elsa groaned when a denim-clad thigh moved between her legs and pressed up; how could she be aroused again so quickly?

The Anna's lips her gone, and Elsa forced her eyes open to see Anna hovering over her, weight braced on her elbows. Anna ground her leg against the apex of Elsa's thighs, a sly smirk flitting across her face when Elsa stifled a cry.

Elsa swallowed hard, the throb that was building up between her legs again making it difficult to think clearly. "Wait," she whispered as she slid her hands up Anna's back, slipping her fingers under the band on her sports bra. She rose up just enough to meet Anna's lips, catching the lower one between her teeth and sliding her tongue over it.

She pushed the bra up far enough to free Anna's breasts, then slid her hands around to cup them, circling the stiff peaks with her thumbs. A primal satisfaction surged through her when Anna closed her eyes and let out a guttural moan. Elsa rolled them over, shoving the sports bra up over Anna's head and tossing it aside before lowering her head to Anna's chest.

"I think it's my turn to make you feel good."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Be gentle, it's my first time._

 _ **EDIT** : I have been woefully neglectful in acknowledging the help I've gotten on this. Big hugs and love to **nopantsparade** for being reader, corrector, idea-bouncer-off-of, and basically just all-around great guy. This chapter would probably not exist without him._

 _I may have a delay in updating - the next week is going to be crazy between work and family stuff. Thanks to all of you who took the time to review - it's always appreciated, and provides energy to keep going!_


	31. Chapter 31

_Disclaimer: All Disney's, I own nothing_

* * *

Kristoff yawned over his coffee, watching Kai pace on the sidewalk outside the diner, phone pressed to his ear. It had been a long night. They had arrived in Gjoheim late last night, only to find that the town rolled up most of its sidewalks by ten PM. There were a number of clubs that stayed open until the wee hours, as well as a few 24-hour diners and convenience stores, but so far, they'd had no luck showing around their photos of Elsa and Aarndahl.

Kai finally ended his call and came into the diner, sliding into the booth seat opposite Kristoff. "I just got off the phone with Sinclair," he told Kristoff as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. "There's been an interesting twist. Agdar Erikksen has disappeared."

Kristoff almost choked on his coffee. "What?! How the hell did that happen?"

"Nobody knows. Sinclair and Chifu are about to soil their pants over it."

Kristoff barked out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I just bet they are. Well, at least they can't blame this one on me."

Kai shook his head. "I wouldn't be too sure. Laying blame is a fine art, and trust me, Jan Chifu is practically an Old Master."

"Great. So you're saying that to advance my career, then the skills that I really need to develop are dodging responsibility, placing blame, and taking credit for the work of others?"

"My, you're appallingly cynical for one so young."

Kristoff snorted, but his retort died on his lips when the waitress appeared at their table.

"Good morning!" she greeted. "How are you gentlemen today?"

She was a bit too much on the cheerful side for Kristoff this early. He grunted and buried his face in the menu, ignoring Kai when he said, "Don't worry about him – he's at his best right now, and it's all downhill from here."

She made a sympathetic noise and took their breakfast orders, both of them opting for a stack of pancakes. Then she disappeared with a promise to have their food out quickly. As soon as she was gone, Kai said, "You're never going to meet a nice young lady with that grumpy way you talk."

"Urgh, Kai, you sound like my mother," Kristoff groaned, scowling at him.

"Hmph, I'm not surprised. Parents, especially mothers, want to see their children happy. But their more powerful want is grandchildren." He chuckled at Kristoff's sour expression. "And there won't be any of those for her until you meet a nice girl and settle down."

"Bulda has scared away every woman I've ever introduced to her. Even Sinclair almost ran away screaming." Kristoff still remembered that disastrous unit picnic, could feel his face reddening as he recalled the way Bulda had examined Lieutenant Sinclair, almost like assessing a prize racehorse, before declaring that "she'll do nicely for my Kristoff." No amount of explaining that Sinclair was his _boss_ had deterred her.

Kai laughed. "Lord, I remember that. She was trying to convince Sinclair that you just needed a bit of fixing up."

"Bulda may be the only person in the world that Sinclair is afraid of. She didn't speak to me for almost a month after that."

"Was that necessarily a bad thing?"

"And you say I'm cynical."

"Touche." Kai lifted his mug in a mock salute.

"And why are you in such a good mood? We haven't made any progress."

"I had a thought," Kai said, stirring his coffee. "Erikksen has disappeared. I wonder if he is trying to rendezvous with Kjarensen."

Kristoff sat up straight. "If he comes up here to meet up with her, we might be able to nail them both. Assuming she's here, of course."

"If we could do that, you may very well get promoted."

Kristoff grinned. "Well, right now I'll settle for having my suspension lifted." He slapped his hand on the table. "He could be on his way here now. Did Sinclair say what time he shook his tail?"

"Midday yesterday."

"Damn, if he's coming, he's probably here already. He might have been here yesterday if he took a plane."

"If he flew, he used an alias," Kai said. "We flagged his name in the airlines' systems." He sipped his coffee, looking thoughtful. "The question is, why would Erikksen and Kjarensen try to meet up? If I were Kjarensen, I'd still consider him a threat. After all, she came to us to make a deal – testimony against him in exchange for immunity for herself."

"Well, if we're right about Erikksen hiring Aarndahl, then maybe she called him? Maybe they're trying to hook up."

"From what we've found out about Miss Aarndahl, I think that she has moved from being Kjarensen's tail to now acting as her protector. And if that's the case, I doubt she would call Erikksen, not if she thinks he's a threat."

"Yeah, I think you're right about the protector angle," Kristoff said. "But Aarndahl _is_ a PI. Maybe she found out something that made her think Erikksen wasn't involved in the hit. And that's also assuming that she was working for Erikksen in the first place."

"Who else would she be working for? And keep in mind that if Erikksen knows that Kjarensen was talking to us, he still has a very powerful motive to eliminate her."

"I wonder," Kristoff began, but trailed off as the waitress returned with their breakfasts. Kristoff slathered his pancakes with syrup while he considered the possibilities.

Could someone else be behind the attempted hit on Elsa? Erikksen had a powerful motive, true, but there were also others who would go down hard if Erikksen's scheme blew up. The dirty Nasjonsting councilors, for starters. Elsa hadn't given them names, not yet, but any of them would be just as motivated as Erikksen to keep her quiet.

Then there were Erikksen's clients. He worked with a number of environmental groups, some of whom had dabbled in eco-terrorism. But with the exception of a few threats against the oil platforms in Arendelle's territorial waters, most of those groups focused their ire against bigger countries.

But still, something just didn't add up.

"What doesn't add up?"

Kristoff started at the sound of Kai's voice, and realized that he must have spoken that last bit aloud. He took a bite of his pancakes, chewing slowly while he collected his thoughts.

"There always been something about this case that didn't make sense," he said finally. "We always seem to be a step behind. Like someone is watching us. Someone who knows our every move."

"Persie Norberg?" Kai made a sour face.

"Maybe. But that doesn't seem quite right, either. According to Persie's financial records, he had that cash coming in for a long time. Years. Has he been somebody's mole for that long? Or is it someone else?"

"Throw in the fact that someone's trying to frame you. Moving money around accounts like that, and that quickly, takes some expertise."

Kristoff exhaled heavily. There were just too many questions. "Well, I guess instead of trying to figure everything out right this minute, we just need to find Elsa and then see where that leads us."

"Agreed," Kai said.

* * *

"Elsaaaaa!"

Anna slid down the banister of the curved staircase, narrowly avoiding disaster at the bottom as she vaulted over the newel. She didn't quite stick the landing, but didn't fall on her face either, only stumbling a few steps before catching herself and skidding to a stop in the kitchen.

"Ta-da!" She threw her arms up with a flourish.

Too bad Elsa wasn't there to see it.

"Well, damn, she missed it," Anna muttered, crossing her arms and pouting a bit at the empty kitchen. "And I totally saved the landing."

She wandered into the great room. "Elsa?"

 _Where the hell is she?_

She made a quick search of the main floor and saw no sign of Elsa. Was she gone? Did she wake up with morning-after regrets and take off? Fighting back a flash of panic, Anna grabbed her burner phone and tapped out a quick text. —where r u?—

She let out a long breath at the quick reply: —Running an errand in town—

 _Why did I think she left? What the hell is wrong with me?_

—missed u when i woke up :( —

 _I wanted to hold you when I woke up, but there was an empty space where you should've been. So I hugged your pillow instead. It smells like you. Come back home and let's go back to bed…_ Anna's heart beat a little quicker at the thought, and the sudden rush of arousal made her squeeze her thighs together.

—Be back soon, I promise. —

There was a cartoon heart at the end of Elsa's text. The little emoji on the screen made Anna grin stupidly.

She went to the kitchen and made herself some hot chocolate, then carried it into the great room. She stopped short, biting back a giggle at the sight of the clothing still scattered haphazardly around. Setting the hot chocolate down, she started gathering it up. A sweatshirt. Her sports bra – _how did it get all the way over there?_ Elsa's jeans. Their boots.

 _Well, at least we_ eventually _made it upstairs to the bed. Not sure how_.

She fidgeted with her phone. The urge to call Elsa and demand that she come home _right now_ was almost overwhelming.

Instead, she sat on the couch and stared at the text from Elsa.

Stared at the little red heart.

The heart.

Love.

She ran her hand over the textured fabric of the couch, fingers playing with the raised patterns woven into the material. Her pulse raced as she thought back to the previous evening. Right here on this sofa, Elsa beneath her, hot under her hands and mouth, the warm salty taste of her skin contrasting with her cool wintry scent. Elsa's beautiful body moving against hers, so responsive to even her lightest touch; Elsa's hands in her hair, fingers tangling and tugging as Anna explored her; her little cries of passion, the way she threw her head back and clenched around Anna's fingers as she reached her peak. The way she trembled in Anna's arms afterwards.

And then Elsa leaning over her, a little hesitant, a little shy, but wanting so much to give Anna pleasure as well. And she had, her patient touches all the more arousing for their gradual buildup from tentative to confident. Anna grinned as she recalled Elsa's quiet delight at being able to bring Anna to her peak more than once.

But mostly, she remembered the way those crystal-blue eyes gazed at her, full of trust and affection and _desire_ , rather than fear.

They had finally made it upstairs to Elsa's bed, where they lay with their limbs intertwined, talking and touching, sharing deep, unhurried kisses and falling in and out of sleep as they did so. They made love again in the wee hours of the morning, slowly and thoroughly, getting to know every inch of each other's bodies before they both collapsed into an exhausted and satisfied slumber.

She stared at the heart emoji on the screen again.

Did she love Elsa Kjarensen? She wasn't sure. She certainly had strong feelings for her, even though they'd only known each other for a few days. Yes, lust was definitely one of those feelings, but there was more to it than that, she thought. Something deeper. Anna knew she was too quick to give her heart sometimes, too quick to trust. And it had usually come back to bite her, but she could never seem to stop herself. Was it a character flaw? Abandonment issues? Or was she just desperate to be loved? She didn't know, and she didn't much care to examine it closely.

Her logical mind knew she should be cautious. Their relationship – _can we even call it a relationship yet?_ – had started on pretty thin ice. After everything Elsa had put her through, Anna thought she would be justified if she hated the woman.

 _And after what I did to her, drunk or not, she would have every right to hate me, too_.

Then there was the reason they were at the mountain house. Elsa was a party to public corruption on a massive scale. No matter what her motives were, she had participated in a bribery scheme involving high-level government officials. She was wanted by the National Police, and being hunted by some very dangerous people. She was a fugitive, and now Anna along with her, and they were taking off, leaving everything behind to end up God knew where.

To call their situation _complicated_ would be a huge understatement.

And with those circumstances, it wasn't like they could just run to a magistrate and get married. _Could we hurry this up please, Your Honor? We're the fugitive couple, and we have an escape to make, borders to cross._

Anna buried her face in her hands. Marriage? _You're losing your fucking mind, Anna. You've known her for three days!_

Another thought crept in before she could stop it: _If you marry her, you could keep her._

 _Three days, Anna. That's not enough time._

 _Why not? It's enough time for you agree to spend a lifetime on the run._

 _Are you that desperate for love?_

So did she love Elsa? She thought she might. All she knew for sure at the moment was that she wanted to _be_ with Elsa. To hold her, kiss her, make love to her as often as they both could manage. She wanted to protect her, shelter her, keep her safe from any harm. Was that love?

If it was, then yes. She loved Elsa.

That was how _she_ felt, but what about Elsa? Did she care for Anna? Or was she just caught up in the potent physical attraction they shared, and the allure of Anna as her first lover? Maybe she was simply infatuated, seeing Anna as her protector or some kind of white knight. Last night could be explained away by their precarious situation, the intoxication of the danger swirling around them, or maybe just by simple lust.

She wasn't going to ask Elsa how she felt. Elsa had enough going on.

 _Or are you just afraid of the answer?_

Anna shoved that thought aside and tried to focus on the immediate future. Was sneaking across the border into Norway really the best plan? Then off to the Continent, or if they were lucky, to America? What would it cost her to do that? She did have some family left, even if they were a little fucked up. What about Marshmallow? And Olaf and his mother? Was it fair to just run off, nothing said, leaving a thirteen-year-old boy and his single mother with her dog? Olaf would be devastated if she left. What would they think of her?

As much as she hated to admit it, she cared about what her family and friends would think of her. And she would miss them.

If she and Elsa ran, they would be basically admitting guilt. And if they were caught, would anyone believe their unlikely story?

For them to escape, Anna would have to return to Flynn Rider's world, to that space on the knife edge of the legal and moral, where it so easy to slip up and get cut. She suspected that once she re-immersed herself in that world, it would be near impossible to climb back out. The thought made her slightly sick. Anna had worked hard to disentangle herself from the shady associations of her juvenile years, and now she could feel herself being tugged back in. And she hated it. But it was the only way.

Or was it?

An idea started to form.

Anna ran upstairs and dug her old smartphone out of her backpack. She hadn't turned it on since the morning they escaped from her apartment. She plopped down on the bed while the phone powered up, contemplating the pros and cons of what she was about to do. Last night, running had seemed like the best option. Elsa didn't want to go back and help send Agdar Erikksen to prison, and honestly, Anna didn't want to do that either, especially after finding out why the man was paying off politicians.

 _He should probably be knighted instead of jailed_.

Ignoring the insistent buzzing of her backlogged emails and texts, she scrolled through her contacts until she found the number that her client, who she now knew was Agdar Erikksen, had originally given her. The one that she'd been unable to trace, that answered only with instructions for A. Aarndahl to leave a message. Her thumb hovered over the Call button.

But what if she was wrong? What if Agdar Erikksen had ordered the hit on Elsa? Her gut instinct told her that wasn't the case, but was she willing to stake Elsa's life on that?

Anna shoved the phone in her jeans pocket and went back down to the great room where she stared out the picture window. _God, it's so beautiful here_. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to stay right here in this house with Elsa, to shut the rest of the world away. Stay here, get new identities, maybe change their appearances a bit. Ski. Hike. Build snowmen. Make love every night. Maybe they didn't have to run.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket and found Erikksen's contact again. The man had hired her. Whatever else had happened, she still technically worked for him. Perhaps it was time she reported in.

She said a silent prayer and pressed the Call button.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Getting back to our regularly-scheduled plot...Thanks again to all of you who have taken time to review! _


	32. Chapter 32

_Disclaimer: Frozen is Disney's. I own nothing._

* * *

 _For services rendered to the Crown, a grant of land is made, in the size of one_ _mål, in the location…_

Agdar rubbed his eyes and peered again at the photo Idunn had sent him. The document in the photo was old and yellowed, the writing starting to fade despite the preservation and care that Idunn took with every document in the archives. This particular document detailed a tract of land in Gjoheim Kantoner that had been bequeathed to a commoner for "services to the Crown," although the nature of the rendered services was not specified.

He sat at a terminal in the records research room of the Land Register office in Gjoheim, but he had not been able to use it for records searched thus far. Gjoheim's provincial government was still in the process of computerizing their archives, and everything more than one hundred years old was on microfiche, and in some cases, still on paper.

He pulled up the terminal's survey mapping application. Glancing back and forth between the photo Idunn had sent him and the computer in front of him, Agdar carefully typed the coordinates from the original survey into the map program. The screen map shifted, centering on an area outside of Gjoheim proper. He overlaid the property boundaries and the topographic view, then frowned. _It looks like it's right on the side of the mountain. I wonder why there…_

The records clerk came over and set two more index books on the table. A small puff of dust escaped from between the pages. "This should be it, sir," she said. "Everything more recent than this is digital."

Agdar nodded his thanks, barely getting his face turned away before he sneezed. He made a mental note to talk to a few of 'his' councilors about getting Idunn's office an additional budget line for digitization. She would ensure that more money made it to the provincial offices.

He went back to wading through the index books of deeds and property registrations. Once he found a record he thought was relevant, he made a note of it in his journal to be cross-referenced against the microfiched documents. It was tedious, eye-straining work.

But from the depths of old journals, yellowing documents and flimsy microfiche sheets, Agdar was unearthing an amazing story.

His day had started with a visit to a Gjoheim woman rumored to be the oldest living person in Arendelle.

* * *

" _What did you say your name is again, young man?"_

 _Agdar suppressed a smile. He couldn't remember the last time someone had addressed him as "young man." Then again, he'd never met anyone so old. She seemed almost beyond time. Small and frail-looking, she sat in a cushiony rocking chair in her tiny parlor, surrounded by treasures accumulated over the course of her one hundred and ten years of existence. Arrays of pictures, from old, sepia-tinged portraits of people in traditional clothing to brightly-colored candids of children holding trophies, told the photographic story of her family going back generations. Agdar wondered if the woman he had come to find out about was among these photos somewhere._

" _My name is Agdar, Mrs. Dybdal. Agdar Erikksen." He took the hand she offered, a bit surprised at the strength of her bony fingers._

" _Agdar. Not a name you hear much anymore. But a good, strong name." She gave his hand a brief squeeze. "And please, call me Inga."_

" _Beste, here's your tea." Her granddaughter, a woman about Agdar's age who was dressed in hospital scrubs, came into the room with a tray. "Do you need me to pour?"_

" _No, dear, I think Mr. Erikksen can do that for us."_

" _All right, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." The woman shot a glance at Agdar, then kissed Inga on the cheek and left._

 _Agdar poured for Inga and himself, and settled onto a small sofa next to her rocking chair. They talked for a while, Inga peppering him with questions about his background, his work, life in the city, and why "a handsome man like you is still single." Despite her age and feeble appearance, Inga Dybdal was sharp and observant, with an impish sense of humor. He caught her shooting a few looks at the doorway where her granddaughter had disappeared, and hoped she wasn't going to attempt any matchmaking._

 _Finally, she set her teacup down. "So why come all the way up here from Arendelle City just to see me, Agdar?"_

 _He took out his leather-bound notebook. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about your great-grandmother. Solveig Olsdatter? I understand that she was once a chambermaid in the Royal household?"_

 _She studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Her hazel eyes, clear and bright under the wrinkled brow and thin white hair, seemed to peer right through him, and he tried not to fidget. After almost visibly making a decision, she leaned over and retrieved an old book from the rack beside her chair. The book's cover was worn and tattered, the gold embossed letters on its front almost completely faded. Agdar thought at first that it was an old Bible, but realized with a start that it was almost an exact physical replica of the journal he had read in the Royal Archives._

 _It was all Agdar could do to keep his jaw from dropping. Did Inga have a copy of the Frostahl journal?_

" _This was my great-grandmother's journal," she said, running a thin finger across the worn cover. "She was indeed once a part of the Arendelle Castle staff, a maidservant to the Crown Princess."_

 _Then she looked up at Agdar, a knowing glint in her eye._

" _I wondered when someone would be coming to see me."_

* * *

Agdar had finally managed to plow through the index books and microfiched records, and was now searching through the computerized records. So far, it looked as though the property in question had passed almost completely intact from one generation to the next. There was a house on it, probably a large house by now, based on the associated tax records and building permits. He carefully cross-referenced names from his notes to those on the land records.

 _This is odd. Maternal side only. I wonder –_

The high-pitched trill of a cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He looked around in annoyance, but there was no one else in the research room. The phone trilled again, and he realized that the sound was coming from his coat, which hung on the back of his chair. He felt a brief moment of panic. _I could have sworn I turned my phone off…_

Then it hit him – _the phone I set up for Aarndahl!_ He'd brought it with him out of habit, but had begun to despair of it ever ringing.

He scrambled to get the phone out of his coat, almost dropping it. It took two tries to get his shaking thumb on the answer button. "Hello?"

"Agdar Erikksen?" The voice was young and female.

"Yes! Is Elsa all right?"

He heard a relieved sigh come through the phone. "I was hoping that would be your first question. It tells me a lot."

"You're Anna Aarndahl, I presume?"

"I am. But I need to verify who you are, so listen up." Her voice was now all business. "You sent me a packet when you hired me. How did you send it and what was in it? I want the answers quickly or I'm hanging up."

Agdar let out a grim chuckle. "Trick question, Miss Aarndahl. I actually sent you two packets, both of them using Hermod Courier Services. The first one was a follow-up to our initial contact, and had twenty-five hundred kroners in cash, in tens and twenties, along with Elsa's CV. Two days later, I sent you another packet with five thousand kroners, again in tens and twenties. This one included a picture of Elsa. Oh, and I also called your office number three days ago and left you a voice mail."

"Okay, good answers."

"Now _please_ , tell me that Elsa is safe."

"She's all right, I promise. But we do have a few problems."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," Agdar said. "First off, how do I know you're really Anna Aarndahl?"

He heard a quick intake of breath. "Fair question, I guess. Um…you hired me anonymously via email, I'm guessing a throwaway account. Your message said that you wanted me to follow Elsa Kjarensen and report on her activities, and that you would send me a cash advance. I sent you a report.." a pause, "…six days ago, to the online storage account you set up. It documented Elsa's movements and said that I believed she was having an affair."

Agdar had to smile, remembering that bit of joy he'd felt at the idea that Elsa might be seeing someone. She worked too much, and kept herself too isolated outside of work. She deserved to have someone in her life. Then again, she may have just been following his example. Repeating his mistakes.

 _I haven't done right by Elsa. Or Idunn. Will I ever stop hurting the women in my life?_

"Also," Aarndahl was saying, "I have a cousin who runs a motorcycle shop in the Wharf District. Well, he's actually my cousin's husband. His name is Eugene Fitzherbert and the shop is called Rider's. Eugene also answers to the name Flynn Rider. You can check it out if you want."

"That's not necessary. I believe you," Agdar said. "Now, Miss Aarndahl, tell me everything that's happened, starting with why you ran."

"Well, you'd run too if someone tried to kill you."

Agdar closed his eyes. So Weselton and Westergard really had tried to kill Elsa. "Please tell me everything. Don't leave anything out."

"Mr. Erikksen – "

"Agdar."

"Okay, _Agdar_. I know _who_ you are, but that doesn't mean I _trust_ you. Can you help me with that?"

 _Clever girl_. "Well, I know that Elsa was talking to the National Police. What I don't know is _why_. If you can tell me why, then I will tell you who is really after her. And it's not me."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then he heard some unintelligible mumbling, almost like Aarndahl was debating with herself. Finally, there was a long exhale.

"She was scared," Aarndahl said. "She said you started acting weird. Withdrawing from her. She tried to talk to you, but you just blew her off, lied to her. She got even more scared when you told her to leave the firm. She thought the authorities were onto you. So she went to the NPs to cut a deal. The two of you testify against the people you're bribing, and you both walk."

 _Oh, Elsa…_ "That never would have worked."

Aarndahl let out a small snort. "Well, she's obviously never had many dealings with cops. She thought they were the good guys. You know, at first she thought you were the one trying to kill her."

"W-what?" Agdar felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Why?"

"She heard the message you left on my office machine, thought you hired me to follow her and set up the hit. After everything that happened, think about how all that must have looked to her."

Agdar closed his eyes. "I suppose."

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think it was you. And I think I convinced her of that, too." Aarndahl's voice dropped to a near-growl. "I better not be wrong."

 _Was that a threat?_ "I could never hurt Elsa. She's like the daughter I never had. I had no idea that she had even talked to the National Police until after she disappeared."

"I believe you, Agdar. At least for now. So since it's not you, tell me who _is_ trying to kill Elsa."

Agdar told her everything about Northern International and its CEO, about Weselton's plans to use Agdar's councilors to control Arendelle's economic environment and keep it friendly to him and his cronies. How the Weasel couldn't have the National Police investigating Agdar and so had decided to eliminate their witness.

"Shit," Aarndahl breathed. "I figured that Elsa was in deep trouble, but…wow."

"And there's more," he said, finally giving voice to his worst fear. "I believe they may be trying to manipulate the succession."

"The succession? You mean, the succession as in who's going to be the next king?"

"Yes."

"Whoa." Aarndahl took a deep breath. "That's…that's like a story out of ancient Arendelle."

"Indeed. There's another man involved, one not nearly as wealthy and powerful as Eckbert Weselton, but far more dangerous, in my opinion. His name is Hans Westergard."

There was a loud clatter, and he yanked the phone away from his ear. He could hear Aarndahl cursing in the background, along with a few scraping sounds. Finally her voice came back on the line.

"Sorry! Did you say Hans Westergard?"

Agdar was instantly wary. "Do you know him?"

A half-muffled _you've gotta be fucking kidding me_. Then, "If he's tall, good-looking, red hair, sideburns…yeah. I know him."

"How?"

A shaky breath. "He's my ex-boyfriend."

Agdar almost terminated the call right there. Aarndahl knew Westergard. Fairly intimately, it would seem. And Westergard knew she was involved, he had mentioned her by name. Was that deliberate? Had she been involved in this the whole time? Her hiring had been random on Agdar's part, but had she told Westergard? Was she a willing part of his scheme, or an unknowing pawn?

Or was it just an unbelievable coincidence?

Given the mostly unrepeatable expletives he heard Aarndahl muttering under her breath, he tended to think it was a coincidence.

Either way, he still needed to get to Elsa.

"He knows I hired you."

"Wait, what? How?!"

"I don't know how he found out. But he did."

"The men at my apartment. He sent them. _Asshole_."

More expletives, some of them quite creative.

If Aarndahl was an actress, she was a good one. The years Agdar had spent in the Castle and around the Nasjonsting had given him a very sensitive dung detector. And right now, it was silent. He decided to take the chance.

"We need to work together, Miss Aarndahl. Where are you?"

"Why?" Suspicion laced her voice.

"I suspect that the last thing Hans Westergard wants is for you, me, and Elsa to exchange information. So that's exactly what we need to do. And to do that, I need to come to you."

"So Elsa's killers can follow you? Not happening. If half of what you're saying is true, you've got to be under surveillance. You're not coming anywhere near us."

"I _was_ under surveillance. I've shaken it."

"How?"

"I know the capital better than almost anyone else, Miss Aarndahl. I have friends in high and low places, and right now, they are both equally valuable to me. Now I want to talk to Elsa."

"I don't think you talking to her is a good idea, Mr. Erikksen."

He started to insist, but stopped himself when he heard another voice in the background: _"Yes, it is. In fact, it's way past time we did."_

Elsa.

There came the sound of Aarndahl protesting, and what sounded like a muffled argument. And then Elsa's voice came on the line.

"Hello, Agdar."

* * *

"My God, Elsa, I'm so sorry." Agdar's voice cracked. "You never should have been dragged into this mess."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Elsa said, feeling tears prick her eyes. She pressed the phone harder against her ear and curled in on herself. "I started this whole nightmare by going to the NPs in the first place."

"We'll finish it. We have to finish it. What's your assessment of Aarndahl? Is she capable? Will she help?"

Elsa glanced at Anna, who was watching her with an anxious expression. She reached for Anna's hand and squeezed it. Anna moved behind her, wrapping her arms around Elsa's waist and resting her chin on Elsa's shoulder. Elsa tilted the phone a little so that Anna could hear both sides of the conversation. "Anna's more than capable. And yes, I believe she'll help us."

Anna's arms tightened around her, and a whispered _you know I will_ reached her ears.

"Tell me everything, Elsa," Agdar said.

She did. Starting with her phone call to Kristoff Bjorgman, she told him all that had happened – the meetings with the NPs, the shooting at the cabin, the men at the airport, their flight from Arendelle City on a motorcycle.

"And where are you now?"

"At my house right outside of Gjoheim."

She heard Agdar inhale sharply. Then, "Well, that makes things much easier than I thought. I'm in Gjoheim already."

Anna stiffened, her arms tightening around Elsa's waist. "Wait, what?"

Elsa put a finger to her lips. "Why are you in Gjoheim, Agdar?" she asked coolly.

"I wasn't following you, Elsa, if that's what you're worried about. I didn't know you were here, I swear it. The project that I've been working on, the one that I've been keeping from you – that's what brought me here. It's time for you to know about it. So please…tell me where you are."

Elsa mind raced. _Either I trust him or I don't_. She wanted badly to trust him, like she had for so long. And he'd piqued her curiosity – what was this mysterious project, the one he'd kept from her, the thing that seemed to be at the root of their separation?

Her curiosity and desire to see him won out. She gave him the address.

"I still have a few things to finish up here," he said. "I'll come there as soon as I'm done."

"All right."

"Elsa?"

"Yes?"

"I've missed you."

It took her a moment to answer around the lump in her throat. "I've missed you, too."

She ended the call. Extricating herself from Anna's arms, she turned to look at the other woman. Anna's eyes darted back and forth between the floor and Elsa's face, her expression a mixture of defiance and contrition. Despite the situation, Elsa couldn't help but find it a bit comical.

Finally she met Elsa's gaze, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought calling him was worth a shot, you know, unless we really want to spend the rest of our lives running. But I guess I should have talked to you about that first, before I just did it. I'm sorry."

"Yes, you should have." Elsa thought that she probably should be angry. But she couldn't stop Anna from being, well, _Anna_. And she no longer believed that Anna would deliberately do anything to endanger her. She touched the other woman's cheek. "But what's done is done."

Anna looked at the floor. "Elsa, I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop screwing up."

Elsa ran a thumb along her cheek. "Don't apologize. I think you did the right thing. Agdar has resources, connections. He's a powerful ally. And a tough opponent for whoever else is involved in this."

Anna looked troubled. "We should probably jump on the bike and run like hell."

Elsa gave a little shrug and dropped her hand. "Maybe we should. But if we do, it will be like you said: we'll spend the rest of our lives running. This way, perhaps we won't have to. Let's see what Agdar has to say."

"Are you sure you trust him? It's a risk."

"Anything worth having is worth taking a risk for, isn't it?"

Then Anna's eyes were locked on hers, her blue-green gaze suddenly intense. "And what here is worth risking your life for, Elsa?"

This time, Elsa was the one who looked away. What she was thinking was crazy. It was too soon, she didn't know this woman well enough, and she wasn't the type of person who got to have a normal life anyway. She'd stopped thinking of herself as someone who got to be happy a long time ago. _Satisfied_ was the best she'd hoped for in years. Yet in the last day or so – _be honest, it was the last few hours or so_ – she had started to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could be happy. Be normal.

Be all that with Anna.

Even the possibility was worth taking some risks for, wasn't it?

She raised her face to find those sea-blue eyes still on her. Waiting.

Elsa couldn't get the words out. Didn't know how to get the words out. She opened and closed her mouth several times. So articulate in every other aspect of her life, but with Anna's gaze boring into her, she could not get her churning emotions and careening thoughts to coalesce into anything resembling coherent.

Instead, she lifted her hand to the back of Anna's neck and drew her close, eyes closing as their lips met. She poured everything that she couldn't say into the kiss, circling her arm around Anna's back to pull her even closer. Anna let out a small sound, her mouth opening easily, her tongue brushing against Elsa's as it slipped tentatively between her lips. Elsa tried to catalog everything – the press of that slim body against her own; the heat of uneven breath rushing across her cheek; the hitching gasp when her hand worked its way under Anna's t-shirt; the silky warmth of Anna's skin under her fingers. But the sensations all swirled together in a wholly undefinable way, and she finally gave up and just let herself _feel_.

When they broke the kiss, they were both flushed and breathing heavily. Elsa rested her forehead on Anna's, and when she brought her hand up to caress a freckled cheek, her fingers brushed against a bit of cool dampness.

"Anna?" She pulled back, and sure enough, she could see a faint glistening at the corners of those sea-blue eyes.

Anna swiped at her eyes. "Sorry." Her throat bobbed. "When I woke up and you were gone, I thought…" She met Elsa's eyes briefly, then looked down. "I thought maybe you had, um, morning- _afterthoughts_ …"

Elsa pulled her into a hug. They stood clinging to each other for a long moment, then Elsa whispered, "You want to know why I left this morning?"

She felt Anna nod against her shoulder.

"You were snoring. Drove me completely out of the house."

Anna jerked back and stared at her in disbelief. Then she snorted out a laugh. Elsa's hand flew to her mouth, but she couldn't cover her own escaping giggle. Soon they were both shaking with laughter.

"Was it really - " Anna choked out between snickers, "was it really that bad?"

"Oh, yes," Elsa said with a grin. "I feared for the structural integrity of my roof."

"Oh, Jesus." Anna buried her glowing face in her hands.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better…"

"What?" Sea-blue eyes peeked out from between Anna's fingers.

"You were drooling too."

"God, kill me now, please."

"Actually, it was kind of cute." Elsa giggled when Anna's hands dropped away to expose her beet-red face.

" _Cute_ wouldn't really be what I was going for, you know, the morning after…"

"Well…. I might've taken a peek under the sheets..."

Anna's eyes found hers, and her lips curled up in a slow grin. "Did you like what you saw?"

"Um…" Elsa felt her cheeks flame as Anna looked at her expectantly, "…yes." She swallowed when Anna hooked a finger into the waist of her jeans and pulled her closer.

Anna leaned in and kissed her in front of her ear. "Want another look?" she asked in a low voice.

Elsa felt suddenly light-headed. _How does she do that?_ "Um…" she tried to collect her scattered thoughts as Anna nuzzled her neck. There was a light nip at the skin just below her jaw, and she let out a surprised squeak. She cleared her throat and said, "First let me show you the reason I went into town."

She took Anna's hand and led her to the kitchen, where an enormous box of chocolate truffles sat on the breakfast bar. Anna's eyes lit up as she lifted the lid. When she popped one in her mouth, Elsa almost melted herself at the pleasurable moan that Anna let out.

"Oh my God, Elsa, these taste sooooo good…" Anna popped another truffle into her mouth, then kissed Elsa hard, her chocolately tongue swiping across Elsa's lips. "I can't decide if I want to eat them or..." She gave Elsa a wicked grin.

The flush spread from Elsa's face all the way down her body, and she wondered if it was possible for her to spontaneously combust.

"Well," she said, her voice a bit shaky, "we could always take them upstairs…"

* * *

 _ **A/N:** No real notes this time, other than to say that I'd love to hear from you guys. :D _


	33. Chapter 33

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney._

* * *

The house was magnificent.

A three- story wooden fortress stood above him, complete with tinted windows that provided privacy and protection from both the elements and strangers. There were balconies on each of the upper floors, giving Elsa what had to be a spectacular view of the valley and lake below. Situated right on the edge of a snowy mountainside, it struck the perfect combination of sophistication, grace, and warmth.

A castle befitting a queen.

Then again, Agdar hadn't really expected anything less from Elsa.

He paused at the bend in the road and looked at the image he'd transferred from the original land survey map. When Elsa had given him her address, on a hunch, he'd overlaid it on the survey map. They aligned perfectly.

One step closer.

Agdar hefted his pack and started walking toward the house again. He'd had his cab drop him off in the resort town about a mile from Elsa's, where he spent some time shopping, picking up clothing more appropriate to the area and a hiking backpack large enough to hold the Infernal Briefcase. He'd drifted in and out of several stores, checking for a tail before changing into hiking clothes and heading for Elsa's. He didn't think anyone could have followed him, but it never hurt to be sure.

He went through the gate and climbed the front steps, hesitating only for a moment before knocking on the door. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited, wondering what Elsa would say. Their last meeting had been a heated exchange, followed by his cold dismissal. Had she really believed that he was behind her attempted murder? The thought made his chest hurt.

The door opened just enough for him to slip through. It closed behind him, and when he turned, he found himself face-to-face with Elsa. After a brief hesitation, he dropped his pack and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened for a second, then her arms came up to wrap around his back. They stood holding each other, rocking gently back and forth.

He kissed the top of her head as she burrowed closer. He rested his cheek against her hair, murmuring, "Oh, my precious girl."

They broke apart after several minutes, and he held her at arm's length, looking her over. She looked beautiful as always, and more casual than he'd ever seen her. Her jeans and blue blouse were a stark contrast to the suits she usually wore, and instead of her normal uptight bun, her white-blond hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. The tears brimming in her eyes matched his own, but otherwise she seemed fine. Safe and healthy, which was all that mattered in the world at that moment.

"Thank God you're all right," he said, touching her cheek.

She gave him a slight smile. "It's been an… _interesting_ several days."

"Understated as always." He looked around, marveling at the interiors. "This place is incredible, Elsa."

Elsa blushed. "Thank you. Come on in, I'll show it to you."

She gave him a quick tour of the house, putting great emphasis on all the green energy modifications she'd made to it. He tried not to smile too broadly at her enthusiasm – she reminded him yet again of an accomplished daughter, showing off her latest achievements to her proud parent.

He followed her into the great room, whistling at the view. "How long have you had this place?"

"It's been in my family for ages."

He tried not to react. _One more piece in place_. "Fortunate. I doubt anyone would think of looking for you out here."

"It's always been something of a safe haven for me. Even when I was little." She cleared her throat. "Agdar, I think we need to talk."

"Yes, we do. Is Miss Aarndahl here?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

Agdar turned to see a slight, red-haired woman standing in the great room archway. She was wearing jeans and an Arendelle University sweatshirt. Hanging by her side, in her right hand, was a pistol that looked way too big to supported by her thin wrists. As he watched, she made a show of sliding the gun into a waist holster at the back of her jeans.

"He wasn't followed," she said to Elsa as she crossed the room. When she got closer, Agdar was struck dumb by how young she was – maybe even younger than Elsa. _She's barely more than a teenager!_ Her alert turquoise eyes never left him, as if daring him to make a comment.

"Agdar, this is Anna."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Aarndahl." Agdar offered his hand. Aarndahl shook it with a strength that belied her slender build. "I suspect you regret the day you agreed to take this job."

"Call me Anna." Aarndahl's expression softened into a small grin. "No, I don't regret it. In fact, I was thinking about specializing in this area. I mean, who else would be dumb enough to do it?"

Agdar squeezed her hand. "I'm so grateful for everything you've done to protect Elsa."

Anna nodded. "I think I've gotten pretty good at it."

She freed her hand from his and reached for Elsa's, threading their fingers together. There was something possessive about the gesture, and Agdar shot a look at Elsa. She blushed, but did not look away, staring at him almost defiantly. His eyes found a red mark on the fair skin of her neck, not quite hidden by the collar of her blouse. His face twitched as he tried not to grin. Elsa got even redder.

 _Well, that certainly explains Anna's protectiveness._

Something in him loosened a little as he saw Anna squeeze Elsa's hand. Anna's face was open and guileless, a slight frown flitting across it when she saw Elsa's obvious discomfort with the display of affection. Unless the instincts he'd honed over the last two decades were completely failing him, Anna cared for Elsa. Quite a bit.

Elsa was harder to read, her face as impassive as a porcelain statue. If he hadn't known her for as long as he had, he might have missed the crinkling around her eyes, the bare hint of a smile as she glanced at Anna.

Had someone finally melted the Ice Queen's heart?

Agdar mentally cringed at the unfair moniker. Elsa wasn't cold. Already reserved by nature, her aloofness had only been magnified by years of separation from her peers, first by her upbringing, and then by the brilliance that put her so far ahead of them academically. Half the Nasjonsting, both councilors and staffers, were in love with her, but no one had ever gotten anywhere with her. She treated everyone with same cool professionalism.

He hated that it had taken a life-threatening disaster for her to find someone who could get past her defenses.

And now here he was, about to deliver some news that might very well end any hope of her having a normal life.

"We have a lot to talk about, Elsa," he said. "Why don't we sit down?"

* * *

Hans leaned back in his executive desk chair, ready to put his fist through the computer screen in frustration. He'd been through his general ledger a half-dozen times, and he couldn't find any irregularities that might have caught his brother Gerhard's attention. Hans wasn't an expert in accounting or finance, but he knew enough about both of them to know that there was nothing overtly wrong with his books.

Gerhard could be bluffing – it wouldn't be the first time – and using the books as an excuse to send Reinhardt – the real finance expert among the Westergard brothers - to dig through his life. It would take a real professional, someone versed in all the tiny in and outs of how money moved, to find anything wrong with the way the accounts for Westergard Export Brokers were managed.

Hans wondered how far he could trust his own head accountant, a squirrelly little man named Knut - _or is it Kurt? Who cares?_ Whatever his name was, he had to have noticed some of the one-off payroll expenses, but so far he had said nothing. How well would he hold up under Reinhardt's questioning?

Or had the man had already found something, and reported it directly to Gerhard? Maybe his brothers already knew, and Reinhardt was coming to deal the devastating blow in person.

Hans fumed. Reinhardt was the only Westergard son who wasn't tall and handsome, and he sorely resented that fact. It was a resentment that he'd been taking out on Hans for years. Picturing his squat, porcine brother, his pink face and beady eyes shining with glee from behind his horn-rimmed spectacles, lording over him in his own office made Hans sick.

God, how he hated the lot of them.

But hatred wouldn't keep him from being ordered home to face his father if Reinhardt found something wrong. Hans rubbed his eyes and turned back to the computer. He had just opened his payroll database when his phone buzzed. When he saw the incoming number, he snatched up the device.

"Westergard. What do you have?" He smiled as he listened. It wasn't firm, but they now had a general location. He hung up and made another call, listened intently to the report, then issued instructions in a clipped tone.

"...fine. Keep me informed. We will probably have to move quickly. I want to know as soon as it's done."

"…you're hardly in a position to make demands. Or have you forgotten what's at stake?"

"…I never would have allowed myself to be put in your place."

He let out an exasperated huff. "After this is over, we'll talk. Perhaps there is some room for renegotiation in our deal. Until then, you'll do exactly as I tell you."

He clicked off, then allowed himself a smile. His two golden geese might be occupying the same nest. That would make his task infinitely easier.

He had just turned back to his work when he heard a tap at the door. He looked up to see Margareta leaning against his office doorway, dressed casually in a flowing skirt and blouse. Hans barely stopped himself from snapping at her. What the hell was she doing at his office?

"Hey there," she said with a heart-stopping smile.

His irritation evaporated. "What brings you here this time of day? Not that I'm complaining."

"I have the afternoon off." She pushed herself off the doorjamb and sauntered toward him. Her skirt moved around her in a way that made him think she might not be wearing anything underneath it. "I thought you might want to play some hooky?"

 _Why not?_ His plan was back on track, and Margareta was a much more pleasant distraction than his brothers.

He grinned broadly, opening his arms so that she could slide into his lap. She wiggled a bit to get comfortable, and his body reacted in a predictable way. He rocked his hips a bit, telling her that he knew exactly what she was doing. She smiled and toyed with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"So what good deed did you perform to merit the afternoon off?" asked Hans.

"Idunn had some hush-hush emergency meeting. Someone from the Royal Council. She cleared everyone out."

Hans froze. The chief of the Royal Archives meeting with a Royal Council member just a couple of days after Erikksen's visit? Coincidence?

Maybe. But he couldn't afford to take any chances on that. It was definitely time to play his trump card.

Margareta crinkled her brow. "Something wrong?"

He recovered quickly, forcing a chuckle. "No, not at all. It made me remember a meeting that I have coming up. But it's not as important as this." He slipped a hand under the hem of her skirt.

"No?"

"No."

He ran his hand up her thigh as she leaned in to kiss him.

It turned out that he was right about what was under her skirt.

* * *

Kristoff left the small grocery story and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. They'd spent hours in Gjoheim, questioning the locals and showing around photos of Elsa and Aarndahl, with nothing to show for it. They had now been reduced to cruising through the streets of the resort towns grid by grid, hoping to spot either the motorcycle, or if the planets aligned correctly, one or both of the women.

It would be easier, he knew, if the NPs released the women's pictures into the media. But that move would be way too dangerous, as it could result in whoever was trying to kill Elsa finding her first, since they had yet to identify their leak.

Deep down, however, there was a part of him wanted to find Elsa first, without help from the media or anyone else. He wanted the credit for finding her, and maybe Erikksen as well. He didn't want some Gjoheim beat cop to get to her first.

 _So what if I want the credit? She has to be alive for me to get it, and slow or not, this is the best way to go about it._

He started a bit when Kai came up, clipping his phone to his belt. "That was Linne from Technology. She's found some property that might be Kjarensen's."

"What? That's great!" Kristoff said. "Wait, you said _might_ be?"

"When she couldn't find anything in Kjarensen's name or under her alias, she started looking at property transactions in this area for the past few years. She didn't find anything in Kjarensen's name, but she did find a property that was owned by a trust set up by…" he glanced at his notepad, "…Astrid Kjarensen Strøm for her only child, one Elsa Kjarensen. A couple of years ago, Kjarensen's trust sold the property to LDG Incorporated."

"So?"

"So…the corporate officer who handled the transaction for LDG was Ingrid Larsen."

"Wait, what?" Kristoff tried to process. "So you're saying that Kjarensen sold the house to her _alias_?"

"Linne is fairly certain based on other data – or lack thereof – about this particular Ingrid Larsen, that she doesn't really exist except on paper. And LDG Incorporated is a shell company. So Kjarensen essentially sold the house to…herself."

"Wow." Kristoff was a little amazed at the brilliance of Elsa's scheme. If she hadn't screwed up at the airport, she probably could have disappeared for quite a while into the identity of Ingrid Larsen. If she changed her appearance and was careful about going out, she could possibly live up here for months without being caught. Years, maybe, if she moved her wealth into a numbered account.

Or at least until the NPs got desperate enough to flood the Internet and airwaves with her picture. At some point, Sinclair and Chifu would probably stop caring if it got her killed as long as they could cover their asses. Kristoff thought that might happen sooner rather than later, especially since they'd let Erikksen slip through their fingers as well.

"Linne needs a raise. Did she have an address for this place?" he asked.

"Right here." Kai held up his notebook.

They climbed back into the car. Kai gave the address to Kristoff, who punched it into his phone, and they headed out of Gjoheim toward one of the small resort towns. They followed the directions through the town and started up a narrow road that appeared to lead almost straight up the mountain. Kai stopped the car just before the last turn, backing it off the road into the trees. They got out to check out the last of the route on foot. Right before the bend in the road that led to the house, they ducked into the tree line.

"Jesus, it looks like it's built right into the mountain," Kristoff said, peering up at the big house. "Are you sure this is it?"

"With the address we have, this is the only place it could be." Kai frowned up at the house. "It's quite isolated. There's no way to know if they're even here, short of knocking on the front door and waiting to see who answers."

"That might be the easiest approach."

"Aarndahl is armed, Kristoff. If she's there, I doubt she'll hesitate to shoot if she feels threatened."

"There's a garage on the near side," Kristoff said, pointing. "Let me see if I can get close enough to look inside. If the bike's there, we'll know this is the place."

Kai looked around the property. "If you follow the tree line up along there, you might be able to get close enough to cross to the garage without being seen. From this angle, I can't tell if there are upper floor windows or not."

Kristoff started up the steep incline, and began skirting carefully from tree to tree, being careful to stay covered _._ His gray sweater wouldn't stand out too badly, but the human eye was drawn to movement. Even under the cover of the branches, the snow was shin-deep and heavy, and soon he was sweat-soaked despite the cold. By the time he got to the point where the gap between the tree line and the house was shortest, he was panting with exertion.

 _Man, I'm out of shape_.

He squatted down and studied the house. There were only two small windows on that side, most likely for a bathroom or laundry room, judging by the vents below them. The likelihood that someone was in that room was pretty small, but there was no way he was going to be able to cross to the house without leaving footprints in the pristine snow. Well, that couldn't be helped, and since there weren't any footprints already there, hopefully that meant that no one had been walking around outside, at least on this side of the house.

He crossed from the trees to the house as quickly as he could. Peering through one of the small windows in the garage door, he spotted the green Honda. Fortunately, it was parked facing away from the door, and he confirmed that the license plate number matched the one that Eugene Fitzherbert had given them.

Kristoff looked up at the house. His whole body tingled with the thought that just on the other side of those walls were the two, or even possibly three people central to this whole investigation. He resisted the urge to just kick in the door right then. Take them back to Arendelle City and end his nightmare.

Instead, he retreated to the woods and made his way back to Kai.

"The bike is there. Green Honda Rebel, and the plate matches the number that Fitzherbert gave us. So they're still together."

"It certainly looks that way."

"So how do we do this? One of us through the front and one through the garage?"

Kai shook his head and began walking back to their car. "I don't like that. The bike being there means that Aarndahl is there, and she has a gun. If we go in and surprise her, she may start shooting. And she knows the layout better than we do. Even if we have the element of surprise, she may get one of us. Besides," he added, "you don't have your sidearm, so we're not splitting up."

Kristoff frowned. "I thought we had decided that Aarndahl wasn't a bad guy."

"Thinking something and knowing it for certain are two different things, Kristoff. And it's not a difference I'm willing to risk anyone's life over. And rushing in on someone unexpectedly, whether they're good or bad, can lead to mistakes. It could even lead to people getting killed unnecessarily. I want to close this case, but I would also like to get us – and Kjarensen - back home in one piece."

"So what do we do? Call in reinforcements? Or wait for them to ride off and then grab them?"

"If we call in the locals, the media will right behind them. That won't earn us any points with Sinclair and Chifu, even if we bag Kjarensen and Erikksen." Kai paused, considering. "I think our best course of action is to keep watch and see what happens. If we're lucky, Kjarensen will come out alone and we can pick her up. After that, I suspect that it will be easy to convince Aarndahl to come out as well."

"What happens if they don't come out? I don't want to lose them again, Kai."

Kai opened the car door and turned on the heat. "Unless they go out the back and straight up the mountain, they can't go anywhere without us seeing them. Aarndahl went to lot of trouble to get the Honda, so she's not going to abandon it. She doesn't have a way to replace it. Where it goes, she goes."

Kristoff nodded reluctantly, entering the car as well. "And it can't go anywhere without us seeing it. Okay. We wait."

* * *

 _A/N: Big thanks to **Vesfarhloc** for the beta read!_


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: Frozen. Disney's

* * *

"Twenty-four?"

"Close, but no cigar."

"Twenty-three?"

"Warmer..."

 _How young is she really?_ Agdar narrowed his eyes as Anna smirked at him. "Twenty-two?"

"Tea is ready," Elsa announced, interrupting their guessing game.

Elsa carried the tea tray into the dining room table, and they all sat down at the table. Agdar watched the two women surreptitiously as he stirred his tea, noting the way Anna scooted her chair closer to Elsa's, and the way Elsa's expression softened when she looked back at Anna.

It warmed and broke his heart at the same time. There would likely be little room for Anna in Elsa's future.

Elsa fixed him with a pointed gaze. "So tell me about this project, Agdar."

He took a sip of his tea as he pondered where to start. Finally, he said, "You're familiar with the _Traktat av Norge_?"

"Yes." "No." Elsa and Anna spoke at the same time. Elsa gave her an incredulous look.

Anna looked embarrassed as she played with her braid. "I mean, yeah, vaguely, I took history, but I wouldn't say I'm _familiar_ with it. It has something to do with the way the royal succession works, doesn't it?"

Agdar nodded. "You're correct, Anna. But what doesn't get taught in history classes is that along with the succession, it also essentially lays out the terms of our independence as well. Specifically, what would happen to us if there is no heir to the throne."

Anna frowned. "So what would happen to us?"

"We become a province of Norway," Elsa said flatly.

" _What?!_ " Anna nearly spilled her tea.

Agdar nodded. "That little detail isn't widely known, even within the government, and the Castle has worked very hard to keep it a secret."

"Why?" Anna demanded. "You're saying that we could wake up one morning and not even _exist_ as a country anymore! People have a right to know that!" She turned toward Elsa. "You knew about this?"

"Well, yes, in the abstract," Elsa said. "Anyone who actually reads the text of the treaty would see it, but few people do that, apparently. I bet that most of the Nasjonsting hasn't even read it, or understand it if they have. God, talk about panic." She looked at Agdar. "But the Castle is searching for an heir, right? Given the long history of incestuous relationships among royalty, I'm certain they'll find someone. Whether or not that person will actually be capable of governance is another matter."

Anna snorted. "The last thing I saw on the news about any of this succession stuff was about that guy from Corona. You know, the one with all the race cars and women and more money than sense? Would he really be our king? We might be better off as part of Norway!"

"What about Norway?" Elsa asked. "Are they involved in all this? Do they even _want_ Arendelle?"

"There have been some meetings with their ambassador about it, but I don't know if it's gone further than that," Agdar said. "I don't imagine that they are enthusiastic about trying to absorb and integrate what was once a completely independent and sovereign country, with its own laws, customs, and traditions. The Chancellor and the Royal Council are probably reassuring the Norwegians that an heir will be found.

"But there is another complicating factor," he went on, "one that is highly classified, and one that almost no one outside of the Royal Council knows about."

"And what is that?" Elsa asked.

Agdar took a sip and of his tea and looked at the two women. "The heir must be a direct descendent of the Frostahl line."

"What? Why is that?" Elsa asked.

"There was an addendum made to the _Traktat av Norge_ , and signed by the Hermit King almost two hundred years ago. Rumor has it that he signed it under duress, in order to protect a family member or some sort of family secret, but most of the documents surrounding the incident, including the addendum itself, are classified. Even the Royal Archivist can't access them without the King's permission."

"And this addendum is binding?" Elsa asked.

"Yes. The Hermit King's signature was verified and sealed."

"I only know what I've seen in the news, but wouldn't that disqualify almost every potential heir they've located so far?" Elsa asked.

"Yes," Agdar replied. "And when Prince Kristen died, King Haldor became the last of the Frostahls."

The two women stared at him in stunned silence.

Elsa found her voice first. "Did he…did he know that? Did His Majesty _know_ that he is the last?"

"Yes."

"He knew he was the last, yet he not only withdrew from governing, he abandoned us completely?"

"Elsa, he lost his only child - "

"If he knew he was the last, then he also knew that Arendelle would cease to exist when he died, yet he made a willful choice to let that happen?" Elsa was coldly furious, her jaw clenched, and Agdar thought he could actually _feel_ the frost in her voice. He shivered a bit. "I would think that the first duty of the monarch would be to see to the continued existence of his country!"

Anna looked worried. "If this gets out, there'll be panic. Hell, I'm feeling kind of panicked already. I don't want to be Norwegian. I'm Arendellian, and proud of that." She glared at Agdar as if she held him personally responsible. "But I still don't understand what that has to do with you, or with Elsa's situation."

"I'm the one searching for the Frostahl heir. That's my project."

Elsa's eyes widened. "Why you, Agdar? You're not even part of the government."

Agdar leaned on his elbows and rubbed his temples, feeling every one of his fifty years. The weight of his responsibility seemed suddenly much heavier as he contemplated where he should even begin.

 _At the beginning is probably best_.

He closed his eyes as he spoke. "It started as a favor to the Chief of the Royal Archives. We were…close…when we were younger. Anyway, not too long after His Majesty got sick, she asked me to meet with her. She told me that she had uncovered some evidence that there might be a Frostahl heir outside of the official line of succession."

"But how - " Elsa began, then interrupted herself. "Never mind that. Why did she go to you? With an investigation of this magnitude, wouldn't it be more appropriate for the Chief of Royal Archives to take it to the Royal Council, or whoever is responsible for investigating things of this nature?"

"Because she accessed the sealed archives without the King's permission," Agdar answered.

"Whoa," Anna muttered. Elsa's eyes widened at the implication of such an act.

Agdar's voice caught a bit as he continued, "She committed treason on nothing more than the strength of some old rumors, all for the chance that it might save Arendelle. She couldn't take her findings to the Council without risking arrest, so she came to me."

"She would be arrested for digging up old information that would help save the country?" Anna asked, her eyes narrowing. "That makes no sense."

Agdar chuckled mirthlessly. "You have to understand, Anna, that there are a number of powerful people in Arendelle whose wealth and positions would be threatened by a real monarch, especially a strong one. They have an obvious interest in maintaining the status quo, and failing that, to make sure that they can control who sits on the Crocus Throne. If they were to learn about what Idunn found, there is a strong possibility that the information she uncovered – along with Idunn herself – would simply disappear."

He waited, watching their faces tighten as the implications sunk in. Anna crossed her arms, brows furrowing as she processed the information. Elsa just looked at him with hurt blue eyes. Then she took a deep breath and asked, "Agdar, why didn't you ask me to help you? You didn't have to do this alone."

Agdar sighed, guilt and regret pressing heavily on his shoulders. "Perhaps I should have."

 _If for no other reason than it might have spared me this conversation._

"I thought about it. But in the end, it came down to your safety. A secret's not really a secret if more than one person knows, and as I said before, there are some powerful and dangerous people who would prefer to see this information stay buried."

Elsa nodded reluctantly and said, "I…I understand." Her expression said otherwise, but she didn't push. "So…what have you found?"

Agdar sat back in his chair and studied her. He was probably closer to Elsa than anyone else, yet he was suddenly aware of how little he really knew about her. She was so private. There were no cracks in the walls that she had built around herself, no windows into her personal life. He could only imagine what her childhood had been like. Did she have any idea of what he was about to tell her? Or would it change every belief she'd ever had about who she was and where she came from? The easiest thing for him would be just to tell her outright. But would she even believe him?

 _Maybe it would be best to just tell the tale, and see where it leads._

"There are two old journals, one belonging to a princess, and the other to a chambermaid…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

… _She's so beautiful, my little niece, Princess Cristianne Merite Kjara Frostahl. But I'm not supposed to call her that. No title, it's too dangerous. And she won't grow up as a princess anyway. My sister only held her for a few minutes before handing her over. She said she didn't want to get too attached. Once she learned that I found a wet nurse, she wouldn't even feed her. Thank goodness for Solveig._

… _I now know why my mistress summoned me in the dead of night. I am to be wet nurse to a baby girl, though the Princess will not tell me who she is. Someone important, I suppose, since Her Highness has commanded me to keep silent about it. Still, I can't help but wonder where the real mother is. Why can't she nurse? Is she ill? Dead? Or perhaps it is Providence that has brought this baby to me, to allow me to reclaim my lost motherhood._

… _It's breaking my heart. She is not only giving up the baby, she's giving up_ him _too. All those years alone, and now she's pushing away the one person besides me who loves her for who she truly is. So what if it would cause a scandal? We've never been typical royals anyway. I'm afraid she'll never love again. She may never even give herself the chance to love again._

… _I am leaving the Castle with the baby. The Princess says it is for her safety, but not to worry. I am to travel with a young man. I'm not sure where he fits in all of this. He has brought little Cristianne to me several times, and he always stays until she is asleep. And he looks at her with such wonder. Is he related to her somehow? A brother, or perhaps an uncle?_

… _She wouldn't come to see them off, so I had to say goodbye for both of us. I could see the pain in his eyes, the same pain I felt for so long, the pain of being shut out by the person you love most. So I kissed him twice – a sisterly kiss for me, and a more lingering one for her, though I know it wasn't quite the same._

… _We are going to the mountains. He has been given some land there. The Princess did not say how long I am to stay with him. Until little Cristianne no longer needs nursing, I suppose. At least he seems to be a kind man, if a bit quiet. We are leaving tonight, after dark. The Princess' consort will be riding with us, to make sure there are no problems along the way._

… _I filed and sealed the land grant in the Archives. At least they will be well taken care of. I don't care what she says, I_ am _going to visit them. I'll get her to go too, somehow._

… _. People here are already talking, so he's offered to marry me, for appearances' sake. I think that I might accept. Not because of the scandal, but because I'm fond of him. I like it here, and I've grown to love Cristianne as my own. In time, I may grow to love him as well, though I'm not sure he will ever really love me. I think he left his heart in the Castle._

… _I've finally convinced her to go for a visit. It's going to be very hush-hush, just the two of us, traveling in disguise. Not even any guards, which is making Captain Krafstal a little crazy. But it's about time, Cristianne is five years old now and she hasn't seen either of them since the day they left the Castle._

… _The Queen is Cristianne's mother. I have no doubts about that after seeing them together. She doesn't show any signs of having the Queen's – how should I say it? – 'peculiarities,' but even so, the resemblance between them is unmistakable. That long illness the Queen had, when the Princess was Regent, it must have been covering up Her Majesty's pregnancy. The time frame certainly fits. Her Majesty recovered shortly after we left the Castle. It's hard to believe that my unassuming husband was once the Queen's lover, the father of her illegitimate child. And the way Her Majesty looks at him…it's obvious that she still loves him. Is that why she hasn't married?_

… _She says she won't visit again, and as much as I hate it, I understand why. If anyone ever sees them together, the game is up. The resemblance is uncanny, even from a distance. Solveig has already made the connection, I'm pretty sure of that, and Cristianne will figure it out if we keep coming back. My little niece is growing up so fast, and she's so smart. But I can't help but think it's really just too hard for my sister, seeing another woman raising her child, and the man she loves married to someone else. I wonder if she can see that he still loves her, too._

… _Her Majesty won't be coming back. It's too risky. The Princess has made it very clear that this is to be kept secret, under pain of death. I would never have thought that she was capable of making such a threat, but that look on her face…I have heard that Her Highness is capable of violence, but I didn't believe it until now. In the end, she didn't have to say any of that. I would never do anything to put Cristianne in danger. Her Majesty may have birthed her, but she's my daughter._

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Agdar finished his story. Elsa looked a bit uneasy as Anna asked, "So the Frostahl heir is descended from an illegitimate royal child? Is that even allowed?"

"The addendum to the _Traktat av Norge_ only says that the heir must be a direct blood descendent. It doesn't specify legitimacy or marital status, because back then, legitimacy was an assumed requirement." He gave her a slight smile and little shrug. "Not so much these days, and now the wording leaves a loophole large enough to drive a truck through."

Anna giggled. "Guess they never anticipated what the modern legal system would look like. Not to mention modern social mores."

"But Agdar, all that is still just speculation," Elsa said. "Even if you've found someone, or think you have, what real proof is there?"

" _Have_ you found someone?" Anna asked.

Agdar chose to sidestep Anna's question for the moment and addressed Elsa's. "Proof? Well, the ultimate proof will be a DNA test. I don't have a sample for that yet, but what I do have is a paper trail."

He pulled out his notebook and opened it, showing them the pages upon pages of names and dates in his small, neat handwriting.

"Every government sails along on a sea of paper. Marriages. Deaths. Taxes. Deeds. Even with illegitimate children and their descendants, there are records of births. There was a royal land grant made to the father of the child, for 'services rendered to the Crown.' What services were rendered, the records don't say, but I'm sure there's an innuendo in there somewhere. The land passed to the child, and to her heirs after that."

He flipped through the notebook's pages. "In fact, based on these records, the land from the original grant, which is right here in these mountains, passed completely intact from one generation to the next, all the way until a couple of years ago."

"Well, that should make things easier," Anna said, springing up from the table. "If we can track down the location of the grant, and the current owner, we should be able to find the heir!" She started pacing around the dining room. "I know we're on the run, but we can still do this. Change our appearances, maybe cut our hair, dye it…"

Agdar ignored her. He met Elsa's gaze, and then let his eyes sweep around the room before giving Elsa a pointed look. Her mouth dropped open a bit and he could almost see the gears turning in her head as her eyes slowly widened.

Anna suddenly shivered violently. "Jesus, it's cold in here all of a sudden," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "In fact, the temperature has been kind of weird in the house since we got here. Elsa, is your thermostat screwed up?"

Agdar sucked in a breath. It _was_ cold in the room, unnaturally so. He gawked at Elsa, who seemed completely unaffected by the chill, and suddenly another piece clicked into place. He shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the sudden drop in temperature.

 _Oh my God, I thought they were just legends…_

He tried to keep his voice level as he said, "Anna, why don't you go check on it?"

Anna cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him, but said, "Sure," and left the room.

When she was gone, Agdar leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze locked on Elsa's, and said softly, "It's interesting, really, this inheritance. Not only did the land pass intact, it also passed exclusively along the female line. Mother to daughter. For generations, all the way up to the most recent inheritance."

Elsa said nothing. She just stared at him.

"Another interesting thing," he went on, "is that the daughters in this line of inheritance have all used their mothers' family name. Not their fathers'. The daughters don't take another name until they get married, which makes it easy to trace this line if you know where to start looking. Unusual, don't you think?"

Her face remained impassive, but he heard her sharp intake of breath. He shivered, and thought he could now _see_ their breath.

Anna came back a few minutes later. "The thermostat looks fine, it's still set and the heat's pumping like crazy. I can't figure it out. It's warm in the great room, but it's freezing in here." She sat down next to Elsa, crossing her arms and shivering. "So what happened a couple of years ago? With the land?"

Agdar kept his eyes on Elsa as he said, "The most recent heir sold it – to a company called LDG, Incorporated."

The temperature plunged. Anna jerked back in her chair, the legs scraping across the floor. "But isn't that the company…?" Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them as comprehension dawned.

"Elsa…Elsa, it's _you_ …" Her breath fogged in the air as she spoke.

Elsa shook her head in disbelief. She pressed her hands down on the table as if to push away from it, and ice bloomed from beneath them, quickly spreading to cover the entire length of the table. Elsa gasped and lurched to her feet, knocking her chair over. She stared at her hands with a mix of fascination and horror.

Anna and Agdar jumped up as well, staring at the ice. Anna took a tentative step toward Elsa, who shrank back, clutching her hands to her chest, her blue eyes round as saucers.

"Elsa…" Anna took another step and reached out a hand. "Elsa, look at me. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

Elsa stared at her for a second, her chest heaving. She shook her head, then turned and fled the room, leaving behind snowflake-shaped ice patches with every footfall.

"Elsa!" Anna started after her, but slipped on the icy floor and fell. "Shit!"

Agdar just stood there, staring at where Elsa had disappeared through the kitchen. He could hear her footsteps pounding up the stairs.

 _We may not need a DNA test after all._

"What?" Anna asked as she clambered to her feet, and Agdar realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"I said, we may not need a DNA test after all. The old legends about the Frostahls…" He trailed off, gesturing at the ice coating the table and floor.

Anna shot him an unreadable look, then followed after Elsa, sliding her feet carefully across the frozen floor.

Agdar sank back into his chair and reached for his teacup, only to realize that it was frozen to the table. He tugged at it, but instead of pulling free, the cup broke, sending the solid lump of tea bouncing across the table. It skittered off the edge, shattering on the icy floor. Agdar just looked at it for a moment, then bent down and raked up the tea fragments.

 _Oh, Elsa. I wish there had been an easier way._

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Posting may slow down for a while - I am trying to enjoy some time with my daughter before she leaves the nest and I am not writing as frequently. My goal is to have this story finished by June. Thanks for your patience and understanding! - Jae_


	35. Chapter 35

_Standard disclaimer applies_

* * *

Elsa slammed the door to her room and leaned against it, chest heaving as she tried to get her panic under control. She uncurled her hands and stared at them. They didn't look any different than they ever had. Yet less than a minute ago, ice had shot from them, freezing over her entire dining room table.

 _What is happening to me?_

A tingling sensation pulsed in her palms, and then tiny snowflakes were dancing between her fingertips, surrounded by a faint blue-white glow. She bit back a gasp and clenched her fists. Was she imagining all of this? Or was she some kind of freak? Was there some kind of scientific explanation for all this?

 _Remember what Agdar said. You're a Frostahl. There are legends about the Frostahl line._ When she was young, her great aunt Ingrid used to tell her stories about strange magic and trolls and mysterious queens with power over ice and snow. She had loved the stories, because she loved Tante Ingrid, but even as a little girl, she was too smart to really believe them.

 _They're just fairy tales._

She looked at her clenched fists again.

 _Aren't they?_

Besides, she didn't know for sure that she was a Frostahl. She only had Agdar's word. No proof. And he wasn't the one who'd actually said it. _Anna_ had said it. She prayed that Agdar was talking about someone else. He _had_ to be talking about someone else.

But deep down, she knew that he wasn't talking about someone else. Agdar was as meticulous and detail-oriented as she was herself. He would never have told her something like that if he wasn't absolutely certain that it was true.

"Elsa Frostahl," she whispered, trying the name aloud. The syllables sounded almost alien rolling off her tongue. Why wouldn't they? She was a _Kjarensen_. Like her mother before her, and her grandmother before her, and all her mothers before her, for generations…was all that a lie? Had she ever been who she thought she was?

She heard Anna's voice in her head: _Elsa, it's you…_

No. She was Elsa Kjarensen, the only daughter – the only _child_ \- of Sverre Strøm and Astrid Kjarensen Strøm, raised with the extraordinary expectations that came with being in a family with a history of achievement. She was an engineer, architect, consultant; she was the daughter of a well-regarded builder and an accomplished historian.

 _Mama was a historian_. _She wrote books about the Arendelle's ancient warrior queens and their bloodlines._

Had Mama known who they really were? Had she died before she got the chance to tell Elsa? Elsa was so young when her mother got sick. Too young to understand something like that, despite her precociousness. If she'd lived, would Mama have told her eventually?

What about Papa? Had he known about Mama's family line, who they were? Maybe he had, and decided the knowledge was too burdensome for a little girl who had already lost so much. Or maybe it was just one more responsibility that he didn't want to shoulder.

 _I'm a Frostahl._

 _I'm the heir to the Crocus Throne._

 _Oh my God. They want me to be the_ Queen _._

Her knees almost buckled under the magnitude of the realization, panic flaring once again. She heard a crackling sound, and looked down to see ice spreading from beneath her feet. Her knees wobbled and she grabbed at the door handle to steady herself. It immediately frosted over, and ice quickly climbed up the door and across the walls.

She was going to be the Queen.

 _The Ice Queen._

The barely-tolerated moniker seemed suddenly apropos.

Elsa stumbled to her bed and climbed onto it, pressing her back into the headboard and curling into a ball. Everything that had happened over the last few days - the fact that she was being hunted, that someone had tried to _kill_ her - seemed insignificant. Fleeting and unsubstantial when compared to the crushing responsibility that had just settled on her narrow shoulders.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them, shuddering as she broke down. The tears flowed, soaking into the fabric of her jeans. Amidst her roiling emotions and tumbling thoughts, she managed to latch onto just one idea and hang on to it.

 _At least my tears are still warm._

* * *

"Well, at least I know I wasn't imagining things," Anna mumbled to herself as she stumbled her way up the stairs. Every step was completely frozen over. Her palms ached from her desperate grip on the banister, and she prayed that she wouldn't slip and bust her ass.

Anna knew the legends surrounding the Frostahl line. Almost everyone in Arendelle did, as they were a large part of their country's mythology. But they were just that – myths and legends. Anna was a pragmatist at heart; she believed in things that she could explain through observation and deduction. Her livelihood depended on that. But this…this defied explanation. Who could create ice out of nothing? Freeze a tabletop with their hands? Turn a floor into a skating rink with their feet?

 _Apparently_ _Elsa can, you idiot. She's a Frostahl, a royal with a mythological ancestry._

She shook her head as she stepped onto the upper floor landing. Ice covered the floor up here as well, leading down the hall to stop in front of Elsa's door.

 _Obviously they're not just tall tales…_

As puzzling as Elsa's…abilities - _powers? Magic? What should I call it?_ \- were, it did make some things start to fall into place for Anna. The weird temperature drops, the ice on the stairs yesterday morning, maybe even the all the erratic weather that seemed worse when Elsa was upset, and she wondered how closely Elsa's abilities correlated with her emotions.

She stopped in front of Elsa's bedroom door, hesitating just for a moment before she raised her fist to knock, feeling a strange sense of _déjà vu_.

 _It seems like I'm always knocking on this door._

Was hiding away Elsa's first reaction to everything?

"Elsa?" she called softly.

No answer. She knocked again, a little harder this time, but there was still no response. Anna laid her hand flat against the door. The wood felt unnaturally cold. She reached for the handle, then jerked her hand back with a hiss.

The handle was coated with ice.

Anna pulled her sweatshirt sleeve over her hand and grabbed the door handle again. It turned easily enough, but the door would not open. She pushed it again, harder this time, and heard the sound of ice breaking on the other side.

 _Did she freeze the door shut?_

Anna turned the handle and threw her shoulder into the door. It flew open with a loud cracking sound, and shards of broken ice rained on her as she stumbled into Elsa's room.

She looked around in amazement even as she shivered with the sudden chill. Frost covered every horizontal surface of the room, and ice crept up the walls above the bed. Anna's breath caught when she saw Elsa on the bed. Curled in a ball with her face buried in her arms and her shoulders shaking, Elsa looked for all the world like a fallen angel, sparkling stalagmites spread above her like broken wings of ice. Her soft sobs were the only sound in the room.

"Elsa?"

When Elsa lifted her head, Anna could see the tears tracking down her cheeks.

Anna crawled onto the bed, the thin layer of ice on the linens cracking beneath her. Elsa cringed back, like she was trying to make herself even smaller, and turned her face away. Anna's breath fogged in the air, and she hugged herself against the deepening cold.

"Go away, Anna."

The words were spoken so softly that Anna could barely hear them, but the distress and bewilderment in them was clear enough.

"Elsa, please." Anna knelt down in front of her, tentatively putting her hands on the sides of Elsa's knees. "Don't shut me out. Let me help."

It seemed impossible for Elsa to curl herself any tighter, but she somehow managed it. "How? How can you help?" Elsa looked up at her. The tears falling from her eyes were now freezing to her cheeks. "How do you think you can fix this? Fix me?"

… _I'm broken inside_. Anna winced inwardly as she recalled Elsa's words from last night. Did Elsa really think that now?

"I can't," Anna said. At Elsa's stricken look, she went on, "I can't fix it, because there's nothing broken."

She cradled Elsa's face in her hands. Despite the frozen tears and the frost surrounding them, Elsa's pale skin was still warm to her touch. She brushed the fine ice crystals from Elsa's cheeks.

"You are not broken."

Elsa started to protest, but Anna placed a finger over her lips, shushing her gently. "This is a _gift_ , Elsa."

Elsa stared at her, disbelief and hope warring on her face.

"It's _amazing_ ," Anna went on. "Have you always been able to do this?"

"…No? I don't know? I don't think so…" Elsa trailed off, her eyebrows scrunched in thought.

Anna relaxed as the chill in the room lost its edge. That was a good sign, she thought. She needed to engage Elsa's curiosity, keep her focused on a question, a problem, on something besides her fear and confusion so that her brain would not flee to the land of irrational thoughts.

"Anything? Any hints of this ability before? Turn your milk into ice cream when you were a kid?" Anna grinned. "Make freezer pops out of your lemonade?"

Elsa gave her a small smile. "Um…now that I think about it, I used to have a tutor who always complained about being cold when he was working with me. He always accused the maid of freezing his tea, but maybe she wasn't the one who did it." She frowned a little. "I never liked him very much."

"That's all you've got? Frozen tea?" Anna scoffed. "You were such a good girl. Now me, I probably would have done something a little more fun, like freeze all the toilet seats in a public restroom. In January."

"Well, that's just…mean." Elsa let out a little snicker.

"Or I'd chill my own drinks. Now that would be a handy skill. Wouldn't need a bar fridge. And I'd always be on everyone's party list."

Some of the stiffness seemed to leave Elsa, and her body loosened a bit from its tight ball. Anna moved closer and took one of her hands. She unfolded Elsa's fingers from the closed fist and threaded them with her own. Elsa's hand was cool, but not any more so than normal.

"Anna, please." Elsa tried to pull away. "I think…it mostly comes out of my hands. I don't want to hurt you."

Anna tightened her grip. "Elsa, if you could hurt me just by touching me with your hands, you would have killed me last night. Or earlier today." She waggled her eyebrows. "But wow, what a way to go."

Elsa flushed crimson and mumbled, "Oh my God, you're incorrigible."

"Yes, I am," Anna said, flashing a wicked grin. She kissed Elsa's hand, then pulled her closer and swallowed her in a hug. Tucking Elsa's head under her chin, she held her close, rocking gently back and forth. Elsa relaxed against her, and Anna could feel the some of the tension drain away when Elsa's arms wrapped around her. Then it suddenly hit her:

 _I'm holding the future Queen of Arendelle._

 _And I'm in love with her._

Anna squeezed Elsa as tight as she could, letting up only a little when she heard the other woman gasp for breath.

 _Elsa is going to be Queen._

 _What does this mean for us? For our future?_

If what Agdar said was true, then only Elsa, now the last of the Frostahl line, could ascend to the Crocus Throne. If recent history had taught them anything, it was that the kingdom needed its Queen, and that the Queen must have heirs. _And if Elsa is to be Queen -_

The next thought, sharp and painful, formed before she could stop it.

\- _there can't be an_ us _._

* * *

Agdar looked up from his seat on the couch when Anna came into the great room. He frowned as he noted the how her head hung down, and the slight slump in her shoulders. What had happened upstairs? Was Elsa all right?

"Anna? Is everything all right?"

Anna crossed to the bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. She lifted it toward him, raising her eyebrows to ask if he wanted a drink. He nodded. Anna pulled out two crystal tumblers and splashed several fingers of the amber liquid into each one. She carried the glasses over to the couch and handed him one.

"To Elsa," he said, raising his glass. "The once and future queen."

"To Elsa," Anna replied, touching her glass to his with a sad smile.

They both took big swallows of their drinks. Agdar stifled a smile when Anna's eyes bugged out a bit. She coughed as she choked down the whiskey, her eyes watering. She quickly set her glass on the coffee table and swiped at her mouth and eyes with her sleeve.

"Not a whiskey drinker?" he asked.

"Not really, at least not a scotch drinker," she answered. "I like Brennevin, but I had way too much of it a couple of nights ago."

"Oh?"

Her face turned pink and she toyed with one of her braids. "It's a long story, best summed up by saying I got drunk and stupid."

 _And frustrated with Elsa in some way, I'll bet_. Agdar stifled another smile, but didn't press.

"Anna, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for Elsa. And for the country. Without you, Arendelle's very existence would be in serious jeopardy."

Anna gave him a quick nod and another one of those sad smiles. He frowned when she picked up her drink and took a taste, more carefully this time. This wasn't the kinetic and talkative young woman he'd met earlier today.

"What happened upstairs, Anna?" Agdar asked gently. "Is Elsa all right?"

Anna nodded. "Yeah, as all right as she can be, I guess, with all this. She just needs some space to think." She moved around the coffee table and sat down on the couch beside him. They sat for a while in companionable silence, sipping at their drinks.

Finally Anna asked, "How long have you known? That Elsa is the heir, I mean?"

"I've suspected for a while, but everything has come together over the last few days. Today just confirmed it for me."

"What about the thing with – with the ice? Did you know about that? How is that even possible?"

Agdar gave a small shrug. "I had no idea, and never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. As for how it's possible…well, if you believe the legends, she won't be the first Frostahl queen with cryokinetic abilities."

"The Troll Prophecy? The Frostahl Curse? The Winter in Summer? I've know the stories, but I always thought they were just fairy tales."

"Apparently not. There are a multitude of myths and legends, but they all refer to the same thing," Agdar explained.

"Elsa's ice powers," Anna finished.

Agdar nodded, swirling his drink around in his glass before swallowing the last of it. "But I wonder why I've never seen any signs of it from her before."

"It explains some of the weird stuff that's been happening, though." Anna got up and started pacing. "There have been some wild temperature drops in this house since we got here, and the snowfalls have been crazy weird. Like, really heavy, and then all of sudden it just stops. Now that I've thought about it, I realize that it happened whenever Elsa was angry or upset."

"Elsa controls her emotions better than anyone I've ever met. Ironically enough, in our professional circles, she's known as the Ice Queen." Agdar shook his head. "Other than the obvious reasons, what's made her that angry or upset before I got here?"

"Well, I tend to have that effect on people sometimes," Anna said with a wry shrug and a faint blush. "But yeah, when I went upstairs, the whole hallway was covered in ice. Her room even had ice going up the walls. But once I calmed her down, it all just…disappeared."

Anna grabbed her drink and tossed back the rest, coughing a little. Then she went to the bar and grabbed the scotch bottle. She gestured to ask if he wanted another. When he shook his head, she poured more for herself, taking small sips as she stared down at the floor.

"Anna, are _you_ all right?" Agdar asked, rising from the coach to move closer to her.

"Elsa's going to be the Queen." Anna tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing at him just long enough for him to see her miserable expression before she dropped her eyes. "The Castle's a big place, but somehow…I don't think there will be any room there for me."

 _Oh, Anna_.

"I'm sorry," he said, touching her shoulder. "I can tell that you care about her. Quite a bit."

"I – I'm in love with her," Anna admitted, her voice catching. "But we can't…she _can't_ …"

She looked up at him again, and he could see the pleading in her eyes. He wished he could tell her something different, that everything would work out, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. Instead, he opened his arms. After a bare hesitation, she stepped into them and laid her head against his chest. His hand moved over her back in soothing circles, and he could feel her thin body quivering as she tried not to cry.

She pulled away from him at the loud buzz of a cell phone. They looked over to see Anna's smartphone vibrating across the coffee table.

"That thing was going off quite a bit while you were upstairs," Agdar said. "Someone really wants to talk to you."

Anna snatched up the phone, rolling her eyes when she saw who the caller was. "What do you want, Eugene?"

"…yeah, I just turned it back on this morning."

"…well, there's a reason I haven't called. I told you that you didn't need to know."

"…what?! What did you tell them?"

"…and that's why I didn't tell you where we were going."

"…look, we're fine. There's no way they'll find us. I gotta go, I promise I'll call you soon."

She clicked off. At Agdar's questioning look, she said, "My cousin. The NPs stopped by his shop yesterday, wanting to know if they'd seen me. Don't worry, I didn't tell him where we were going."

Agdar let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Be that as it may, we still should make plans for leaving here."

"Yeah," Anna agreed. She started scrolling through her phone. "Wow, you weren't kidding. Eugene called…four times, and Rapunzel called six times. I can't even count the texts -"

Anna cut herself off with a sharp gasp, staring at the phone with wide, frightened eyes. Agdar's heart skipped a beat, and he stepped closer to her.

"What is it, Anna?"

She looked up at him. The blood had drained from her face, her freckles standing out even more against her suddenly white skin. "They – they have Olaf."

"What? What does that mean?"

Before she could answer, they heard Elsa's voice ask, "Anna, what's wrong?" They turned to see Elsa hurrying across the room, her brow creased with worry, cool air swirling around her.

"Olaf. They took Olaf," Anna choked out.

"Who is Olaf?" Agdar asked.

"Her neighbor. He's just a kid," Elsa answered. "What do they want, Anna?"

Anna opened and closed her mouth a few times, then simply held up the phone so that they could see the text message, her face an anguished mess.

 _Elsa Kjarensen for Olaf Sommersonn_.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks to Vesfarhloc, Issandri, and grrlgeek72 for their help with this. You guys are awsome!_


	36. Chapter 36

_Disclaimer: Frozen = Disney's_

* * *

"We have to call the police."

Anna barely registered Elsa's statement, barely felt the sudden gust of wintry air around her. She just stared at her phone. The words _Elsa Kjarensen for Olaf Sommersonn_ stared right back at her. A chill ran down her spine, one that had nothing to do with Elsa.

There was a number to call as well. Not the same as the text's originator, which looked like some sort of messaging service number. Shaking herself out her shocked haze, she scrolled through her contacts and punched the Call button.

 _Pickuppickuppickup_ , she pleaded silently.

"What are you doing, Anna?" Agdar demanded, reaching for her phone.

She shoved his hand away and skipped back a few steps. Finally the ringing stopped and a gruff "Hello?" came over the line.

"Mrs. Sommerson, it's Anna," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Anna? All you all right? Where are you? What's going on? The National Police have been here asking about you - "

"Mrs. Sommersonn, please!" Anna almost shouted into the phone. "Is Olaf there? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's here, he's fine, he's on the couch playing video games and complaining about you not being here. Why? What's going on, Anna?"

Anna's knees wobbled with relief. Olaf was okay, at least for the moment. But she had to make sure he stayed that way. She hated to scare his mother, but she didn't see any other way. "I can't explain right now, but I think he might be in danger. Someone might try to snatch him."

She winced at Mrs. Sommersonn's cry of alarm, but pressed on. "If you can, take him away somewhere. Anywhere. If you can't leave, call the police. Keep him in the house and stay with him."

"Anna, why?! Why would someone want to hurt Olaf?!"

Anna could hear the panic in the other woman's voice. "It's because of me," she said, feeling a sting of guilt. "Those men that came to my apartment, they're hunting me and trying to use Olaf as bait to draw me out." Anna took a deep breath as another idea occurred to her. "But I swear, I'll make sure he's protected until I take care of the problem."

"How?!" Olaf's mother was wailing now, and Anna could hear Olaf in the background, wanting to know what was going on. Her chest felt like a giant hand was pressing down on it.

"Make arrangements to leave. But don't go anywhere until you hear from me again. I need to make a phone call. I'll get back to you as quick as I can, I promise."

Anna hung up before she could hear any more pleas, any more of Olaf's questions. She called Eugene back, explained the situation as vaguely as she could, and then told him what she needed. He didn't protest, just asked her where and when.

"My apartment house. As soon as you can get someone there," she said. "Oh, and Eugene, tell them to stay out of sight. Mrs. Sommersonn's freaked out enough already. She doesn't need to see Hook Hand or Attila hanging around. It will scare the shit out of her."

"…yeah, yeah, I promise, I'll call you as soon as I can. Thanks, Eugene."

She hung up and turned to see Elsa and Agdar staring at her.

"Anna, we have to call the police," Elsa said. "Tell them what we know about this."

"No," Anna said. "We can't afford to get involved with the police, and even if we could, all we have is a text message that doesn't mean anything to anyone except us."

"But - "

"Look, Elsa, the NPs are already tracking us. They've been at Olaf's and they showed up at Eugene's shop. If we call the cops, show them this, they're going to have a lot more questions than we have answers for. It will also have the NPs breathing down our necks in no time, and I don't trust them. They have a leak somewhere."

"She's right, Elsa," Agdar put in.

The temperature took a sharp dip. "I am not going to let that sweet boy get hurt because they want me!" Elsa snapped, glaring at both of them.

"I'm not going to let either one of you get hurt!" Anna retorted. "I'm handling it, Elsa. Eugene's buddies will keep an eye on Olaf. They're better than the cops anyway."

"Give me that phone," Elsa ordered, her voice flat and cold. She held out her hand.

"Why?"

"That message had a phone number. I'm going to call it and see what they want."

"I'm sure calling is exactly what they want us to do," Anna said.

"So they can trace the call and snatch you right here?" Agdar pushed his hands through his hair, then grabbed Elsa by the shoulders. "You _can't_ , Elsa, you're too important."

Elsa pinned him with an icy glare. "So for my first act as heir to the Crocus Throne, I should exchange the life of one of my citizens for my own? A child's life, at that?"

Anna just watched, wide eyes pinging back and forth between the two as they stared each other down. She and Agdar were both shivering now, and she could see their breath misting in the air. Agdar broke first, dropping his hands from Elsa's shoulders and looking away.

"Is it even possible to trace a cell phone call?" he asked Anna.

Anna sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's possible, if you have the right equipment. The carriers have to be able to be able to do it so dispatchers can locate emergency callers. If the phone has a built-in GPS, they can use that, but it's not real-time. It's always a few minutes behind. If the phone doesn't have a GPS, they'll try to triangulate between cell towers using time difference of arrival – shit, they might be trying to snatch Olaf right now and I sound like a fucking geek at a science fair!"

"But it's not an exact location, right?" Elsa asked.

"No, it's not exact, at least I don't think so." Anna took a deep breath and scowled. "But who knows? Every day, some nerd invents a new something that strips away a little bit more of your privacy. I should know, half my job is to invade people's privacy."

"You should call them, Anna." Elsa stepped closer and reached for the phone. "Or I will."

Anna held the phone away from her. "What the fuck am I supposed to say, Elsa? They want to trade you for him." She dropped her head. "I can't…I can't make that choice." _Why can't you see that?_

Cool fingers slid under her chin, lifting it and forcing her to look into those crystal-blue eyes.

"Call them, Anna," Elsa said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen to Olaf."

"You can't guarantee that," Anna whispered.

"I can guarantee that I will do everything in my power to make sure he's not harmed."

"Including walking right into their hands?" Agdar countered.

Elsa turned to glare at him. "Yes, if it comes to that. I'm not letting an innocent child get hurt because of me."

Anna buried her face in her hands. _I'm supposed to be so good at improvising, but I can't even think straight._

"Elsa, you can't - " Agdar protested.

Elsa cut him off. "This discussion is over. Make the call."

It was unquestionably a command, given in a tone that brooked no dissent.

Anna met Elsa's eyes. Elsa just stared back, expressionless. Anna shivered, then took a deep breath and punched in the number. The phone rang only once before someone picked up. She put the phone on speaker so that Agdar and Elsa could hear as well.

"Ms. Aarndahl?" Anna didn't recognize the voice. She thought it might be male, but wasn't sure. It had a strange, mechanical quality to it, like it was being altered somehow. It sounded… _inhuman_ , and the little hairs on the back her neck stood on end.

 _Voice distorter, maybe?_

"This is Anna Aarndahl."

"How nice of you to call, Ms. Aarndahl. Are you prepared to deal?"

"Just so you know, I just checked on Olaf Sommersonn. He's fine and the cops are on their way, so any ideas you have about snatching him - "

An eerie chuckle. "We have no need to kidnap him, Ms. Aarndahl."

"Then why am I talking to you?" _Asshole_.

The eerie chuckle came again, and the next words chilled Anna to her bones. "We don't need to abduct him. We can eliminate him anytime we want. Today, tomorrow, next week, next month. While he's at the park, going to his robotics club, even when he's sleeping. His apartment is on the first floor, and his bed is right by the window. Simple, really. And it's not just Olaf. You need to think about your cousin's health as well. You know, expecting her first child and all. It would be terrible if anything were to happen - "

It was all Anna could do not to hurl the phone against the wall. "You sick _fuck_!"

"Being vulgar won't help them." The voice _tsked_ and then continued with an infuriating calm. "Where is Elsa Kjarensen, Ms. Aarndahl? We just want her. Give her up and all your problems are solved."

Anna trembled with rage. "And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"You don't really have a choice, do you?"

Anna's mind pinballed, trying to figure a way out of the nightmare. She couldn't hand Elsa over to the people who wanted her dead. There was a chance they might be bluffing, but could she bet Olaf's life on that?

 _No. Not after what went down at the cabin. These people have shown they're all too willing to kill._

Elsa's hand slid in to cover the phone's voice pickup. "Tell them I got away from you," she whispered.

Anna swallowed hard and nodded. "I don't even _have_ Elsa. She ditched me a couple of days ago."

"Well, then, I see we have nothing left to talk about. You can explain everything to Mrs. Sommersonn when she's burying her son. Good-bye, Ms. Aarndahl."

"Wait!" Anna cried.

"Yes?"

Anna looked at Elsa and bit her lip. "If I can get Elsa, what do you suggest?"

"A meeting."

"She's not going to come willingly."

"I missed the part where that's my problem. Just get her there. We'll be waiting."

"And you're just going to let me walk?"

"Yes," the voice replied simply. "You can drop her off and walk away. You don't interest us."

"Where?"

The voice rattled off an address. Anna knew the area: several blocks of abandoned and underutilized warehouses in in the Wharf District, not too far from Eugene's shop. Isolated, except for some occasional vagrants.

She looked at Agdar and Elsa. Agdar had a thoughtful expression, and when she raised her eyebrows, he nodded.

"Ask for some time," he whispered.

"I'll need a few days," Anna said into the phone.

"Tomorrow night. Midnight," the voice said.

"That's not enough time!" Anna protested. "I have to find Elsa, then I have to convince her to come with me. And there are cops everywhere!"

"Then I suggest you get started."

Anna's fist clenched around the phone. "You listen to me, asshole. If you hurt Olaf, touch even one hair on his head, I swear I will find you and I will make you pay for it!"

The chuckle managed to sound amused despite the mechanical distortion. "Oh, Anna, consider yourself lucky that we don't see you as a threat. Do yourself a favor: when you walk away, don't look back." The line went dead.

Anna just stared at the phone, stunned. "Hans…" she whispered.

"Westergard? You think that was him?" Agdar asked.

Anna nodded. "It has to be. Even with that voice distorter, I could hear _him_. Could practically _feel_ the douchebag-ery coming through the phone. He's so fucking smug. He would know about Olaf, how close we are, and about Rapunzel."

"Wait, wait, who are you talking about?" Elsa asked.

"Hans Westergard," Agdar answered.

Elsa frowned. "As in Westergard Export Brokers?" At Agdar's nod, she asked, "What does he have to do with all this?"

Anna wanted to facepalm. With all the revelations around Elsa's heritage, Agdar hadn't even been able to tell Elsa who was hunting her and why. Before she could say anything, though, Agdar took Elsa's arm and steered her to the couch. Once she was seated, he filled her in on everything – how Eckbert Weselton and Hans Westergard had discovered his bribery scheme, how they had blackmailed him into cooperating with them, how they planned to use Agdar's compromised councilors to control the Nasjonsting.

"And the worst part," Agdar concluded, "is that I believe their ultimate goal is to decide who sits on the Crocus Throne. If they can produce a minimally suitable candidate, even one with a falsified background, they can use their leverage in the Nasjonsting to put that person on the throne."

Elsa, to her credit, kept her face impassive, but the room grew noticeably colder. "Do you think they know that I'm – I'm the heir?" She almost choked on the last word.

Agdar tapped his chin in thought as he paced. "I doubt it. I think they were originally planning to use you as leverage against me, to make sure I did what they wanted. But when you went to the National Police, you became a direct threat. Once the corruption investigation started, those councilors would be under NP surveillance, and much harder to lean on. And if any of them were arrested, they wouldn't be available to do Weselton's bidding. They tried to kill you to stop the investigation."

"But how does Hans Westergard know you, Anna?" Elsa asked.

Anna and Agdar exchanged glances. Anna tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "Um…he's my ex."

Elsa's mouth dropped open and she bolted to her feet, ice crackling under them.

"Elsa - " Anna began.

"Your ex-boyfriend is trying to kill me? When were you planning on sharing that with me?"

Anna shivered at the cold fury in Elsa's voice. Worse, though, was the hurt and mistrust she could hear under the fury, and her heart sank. "Elsa, please, let me exp - "

She broke off as Elsa brushed by her on her way to the bar, where she filled a tumbler with scotch and took a healthy swallow. Unlike Anna, Elsa didn't seem to have any problem getting getting the whiskey down. She looked at her glass thoughtfully, then extended one finger and gave it a little tap. Anna's eyes widened when a faint blue-white glow pulsed from Elsa's finger, and a light layer of frost spread over the glass.

 _Whoa…_

Elsa looked up to see Anna staring, and raised the glass in a sardonic salute. "Like you said, a handy skill." She took another sip of her drink, then said, "I'm going to call Kristoff Bjorgman. He can put Olaf and Anna's cousin in protective custody."

"Elsa, for all we know, _he's_ the leak!" Anna protested.

"So what else do you suggest?" Elsa asked hotly. "Even if I agree to meet with Westergard, you can't go. He'll never let you walk away, Anna. You're the loosest of loose ends!"

Anna clenched her fists. "I'm not going to just hand you over!"

"I have a better idea," Agdar interjected.

"Oh? What's that?"

Agdar retrieved his backpack, pulling a briefcase out of it. He set the briefcase on the coffee table and opened it, then dug into a false panel. "This briefcase has a hidden mic and video recorder. Weselton and Westergard gave it to me to record my councilors for future blackmail, but I turned it on them."

A corner of Agdar's mouth quirked up as he showed Anna and Elsa a tiny data card. "On this little card, I have them admitting that they had the NP agent killed, among other incriminating things."

"Are you serious?" Anna's brows shot up, and she felt the first glimmer of hope.

"Trust me, I would never joke about these people."

"So we use this to keep them in check," Elsa said. "They hurt us…

"We destroy them," finished Anna.

"Exactly," Agdar said grimly.

"Do they know that you have this?" Elsa asked. "And do you know how to contact them?"

"By now I'm sure Westergard has figured out what I did." Agdar got up from the couch and walked to the picture window, gazing out at the gathering darkness. "He's quite clever. And ruthless. He has a considerable range of influence. No doubt he's pondering what I might do with the recording."

"Hans is so fucking arrogant, he probably thinks he should be King," Anna snorted. Agdar turned and gave her a strange look. "When are you going to call Hans?"

"Right now," Agdar said. "But I'm not calling him. Westergard may be clever, but Weselton is holding his leash. He's the one to talk to."

"Whoever, as long as we're finally _doing_ something," Anna said. "And then we need to get the hell out of here. Between my phone call and yours, they're going to narrow down our location sooner or later." She reached around and touched her pistol, its weight reassuring at the small of her back. She wondered how much trouble she would get in if she tracked down Hans herself and shot him. Nothing bad, just in the foot or something.

 _Or even better, I'll just punch him in his perfect teeth._

"Elsa?" Agdar said, raising an eyebrow.

Elsa looked back and forth between the two of them, and then nodded. "Make the call."

* * *

Weselton was in his study at home when Erikksen's call came in. His tech people had made sure that such calls wouldn't be traceable to him, should Erikksen be sitting at NP Headquarters.

"Good evening, Agdar," Weselton said.

"We can skip the pleasantries, Weaseltown. I think you know why I'm calling."

"About a very personal video, I believe."

"Perceptive as always, I see."

The sarcasm in Erikksen's voice set Weselton's teeth on edge, but he controlled his voice. "I would appreciate a small demonstration, if you don't mind," he said.

Erikksen played a short but incriminating sample of the audio. Weselton tugged at his collar as he listened. Hans was right; Erikksen had the means to destroy them both. He took a swallow of his cognac, struggling to still his shaking hand as he raised the snifter to his lips.

"Well?" Erikksen demanded.

"So you're ready to deal, are you, Agdar? I would like to open by saying that I have had your painting returned to your house."

"That's a start, but nowhere near enough."

"I thought not. What are your other terms?" Weselton asked, impatience creeping into his voice. He hated the back-and-forth of negotiations like this, especially when he was in the weaker position. It had been years since he'd had to really bargain for anything – his wealth and position had allowed him to simply state his non-negotiable terms.

"First and foremost, stay away from Olaf Sommersonn. Call that off right now, and don't ever go near him. Or any of Anna Aarndahl's family or friends. Clear?"

"Am I correct in assuming that you're with Miss Kjarensen and Miss Aarndahl right now?"

Erikksen ignored that. "Second, the three of us are off-limits as well. If anything even remotely suspicious happens to one of us, that data card will go straight to NP Headquarters."

"Do Kjarensen and Aarndahl know of my involvement?"

"No."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Amusement colored Erikksen's voice. "You don't. However, it would be dangerous for them to know. They just want to survive. A fairly understandable goal for them given these last few days. So you'll just have to take my word for it."

Weselton's hand clenched around his phone, and he fought the urge to slam it down on the receiver. "And what about my long-term plan?" he ground out.

"I missed the part where that's my problem."

"Why did you run?"

"What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

Weselton sniffed. "I would never have allowed myself to be put in your shoes."

"Well, thank God we can't all be like you. So we have an agreement?"

"I don't see that I have much choice," Weselton grumbled.

Erikksen chuckled. "Welcome to the club. Good doing business with you, Weaseltown." He hung up.

Weselton put the phone down and sat there seething. A few minutes later, Gustaf knocked and stuck his head around the door to report that the trace had not been made. Weselton finished his cognac, then called Hans.

"They're definitely together," Hans concluded after Weselton relayed the conversation with Erikksen. "All three birds in the same nest. That will make things much simpler."

"Agreed. This has dragged on long enough. It is time to be finished with it."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to vesfarhloc and grrlgeek72 for the beta reading. :)_


	37. Chapter 37

_Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

Anna lay on the couch in the great room, her pistol resting on her stomach. She had been patrolling the house since Agdar's phone call to Weselton, her body on high alert; every few minutes she thought she heard someone trying to break in, and each time it proved to be a false alarm, her tired but still-overactive imagination threatening to drive her crazy. Finally, her exhaustion had driven her to the couch, where she dozed fitfully for a few hours.

Real sleep, however, was elusive.

Despite Agdar's conversation with Weselton, none of them trusted that their pursuers would leave Olaf alone. After some heated discussion, they decided that Anna would take the motorcycle and return to Arendelle City to meet up with Eugene and check on Olaf. There would be no meeting with Hans. With Olaf protected, there was no need to expose Elsa or Anna to whatever he might have planned for them.

Anna had called Eugene to warn him that the threat had now been extended to Rapunzel. He had not taken it well. As he rained curses down on her head, she half-wondered if Eugene might not lock his wife back up in the penthouse prison he'd rescued her from almost a decade before. He didn't calm down until Anna explained the situation in more detail, leaving out the part about Elsa being the heir to the throne. No need to borrow any more trouble than they already had.

"You've gotten yourself into some deep shit, Squirt," he'd said after a long silence.

"Don't I know it?" she replied with a sigh.

After Anna left to ride back to the city, Elsa's caretaker would pick up Agdar and Elsa and take them to the Gjoheim airport. Agdar had arranged for a charter plane to fly the two of them to a private airstrip just outside the Arendelle City.

Agdar wanted to take Elsa directly to Arendelle Castle and put her under the protection of His Majesty's Own. Elsa flat-out refused, pointing out that until they could get a DNA test, they had no hard proof that she was the heir, and thus had no business in the Castle.

Anna's suggestion of a demonstration of ice powers had not been…well-received.

So instead of going to the Castle, Agdar and Elsa would go to a motel in Arendelle City after they landed, and register under a false name. Anna would meet them there once she was sure Olaf was safe and protected.

Or at least that was what they'd told Elsa. Agdar had told Anna privately that he intended to take Elsa directly to Arendelle Castle anyway. The commander of His Majesty's Own was an old friend, he explained, and he had made arrangements to secretly get Elsa into the Castle and into their protective custody until Weselton, Westergard, and anyone else involved in manipulating the succession could be dealt with.

Anna sat up and rubbed her gritty eyes. She agreed with Agdar; the Castle was the best place for Elsa. No one would expect her to go to the most famous landmark in all of Arendelle, and even if they found out, they would have no way to get to her. It was the most secure building in the country. Elsa would be safe there.

 _Safe but furious._

Anna just hoped she wouldn't be furious enough to try some kind of hare-brained stunt like the one she had pulled at the airport, when she tried to ditch Anna and fly to Oslo. Or furious enough to shut Anna out completely.

 _Who am I kidding? In the long run, it's not going to matter if she's pissed at me or not. Once Elsa goes through the Castle gates, she will officially be royalty and that will be the end of…whatever this is…between us. She's going to be Queen. And queens don't have relationships with people like me._

Anna pushed herself to her feet and headed up the stairs. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well get a jump start on her trip back to the city. She took a quick shower and changed her clothes, then packed her backpack. Once she finished, she made her way down the hall to Elsa's bedroom.

"Elsa?" she called softly, tapping on the door.

No answer. Maybe Elsa was sleeping, but somehow Anna doubted it. She eased the door open and slipped through. "Elsa?" she called again, closing the door behind her.

She took a quick look around the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Elsa's bed was empty, the covers undisturbed. Anna took a quick peek into the bathroom. No Elsa. Maybe she had gone downstairs while Anna was in the shower.

Anna was about to go back downstairs when she caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Turning toward it, she saw Elsa on the balcony outside the bedroom. Elsa stood with her left hand in front of her, a flurry of snowflakes swirling around her fingertips in a sphere of blue-white light. As Anna watched, wide-eyed, Elsa waved her right hand up around over the left, and then a perfectly round snowball hovered between her palms. With a flick of her fingers, the snowball shot up over her head and exploded in a shower of shimmering snowflakes.

"Whoa…" At that moment, Anna wasn't sure which was more beautiful – the magic or its caster. Elsa was in her nightgown, her hair loose and tumbling over her back like a white-gold waterfall, her face alight with wonder as the sparkling snowflakes fell around her. She looked almost… _otherworldly_ , winter made flesh, a snowy goddess descended from the heavens.

She stepped out on the balcony. Elsa started, and Anna shivered as a gust of frigid air blew around her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Elsa clasped her hands together and looked a little sheepish. "It's okay."

Anna wrapped her arms around herself against the chill mountain air. She realized with a little jolt that Elsa was barefoot and wearing nothing over her thin nightgown. "Elsa, aren't you cold?"

Elsa shook her head. "No. It's strange. I know it's cold out here, I can feel that it's cold, but _I'm_ not cold. it just doesn't…bother me. Part of the whole - " she waved her fingers and snowflakes twirled around the tips, " – _thing_ , I guess." She frowned when Anna shivered again. "But _you're_ cold. Let's go in."

"Wait. Would…would you do that again?" Anna asked. She wiggled her fingers, imitating the way Elsa conjured the snow. "The – the magic? It's so beautiful."

Elsa just looked at her for a long moment, then held out her hand. Another pulse of that blue-white light, and snowflakes danced above her palm. Anna leaned in, peering closely at what seemed to be a tiny blizzard swirling in Elsa's hand. A few random snowflakes bobbed around the edges, one popping out like a spark from a fireplace. The whole thing radiated an arctic cold that Anna could feel even at her slight distance, yet other than the slight blue cast to her skin, Elsa's hand seemed perfectly normal.

"What…what does it feel like?" Anna asked. She put her hand closer to the miniature snowstorm. It was almost painfully cold. "When it comes out?"

"There's a little tingling," Elsa said. "Almost electrical. It's rather…pleasant, actually." She closed her eyes, and the swirl of snowflakes became a stream, shooting upward like a geyser. Anna tipped her head back as the flakes drifted back down around her, eyes closing at the sensation of them melting against her skin.

"This is amazing," she murmured. She opened her eyes to see Elsa biting her lip and watching her, and she resisted the temptation to reach out and tug Elsa's lip from between her teeth with her thumb. "What? What is it?"

Elsa shook her head. "Nothing. Let's go in."

They went back into the bedroom. Elsa spotted Anna's backpack leaning against the wall by the door. "You're getting ready to leave, aren't you?" she asked.

"I..um..yes," Anna said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I tried to sleep, but I'm just too wired, I kept getting up to check the doors, and it's a long ride back and I just figured I'd get a jump on it even though it's not light out yet and - "

"Anna." Elsa's fingers came up to cover her lips, a small smile on her face. "You're rambling."

"Sorry," Anna said sheepishly.

"It's okay, I couldn't sleep either."

"Where's Agdar?"

Elsa let out a little giggle. "I think he might actually be dozing, if the chainsaw sounds coming from his room were any indication."

Anna chuckled. "Well, at least one of us will be rested."

Elsa was chewing on her lower lip again, a worried expression flitting over her face. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Anna shook her head. "I don't want you anywhere around if Hans or his goons decide to show up at Olaf's." She reached out and took Elsa's hand. "But I don't like leaving you."

"You need to make sure Olaf and your cousin are safe. I'll be fine, Anna. You heard Agdar, he's got them cornered."

"Cornered animals can be really dangerous. Please, please don't let your guard down."

"I won't, I promise." Elsa squeezed her hand.

"See me off?" Anna whispered

"Of course."

They walked down to the garage, clinging tightly to each other's hands. Anna loaded her pack into one of the motorcycle's saddlebags, then wiggled into her heavy mesh jumpsuit. Elsa helped her get it up over her shoulders. She tugged the zipper up to Anna's neck and let her fingers linger there. Anna's throat bobbed at the gentle stroke of those cool fingers along the neckline of the suit, and she let her eyes fall closed briefly before taking a deep breath.

"Make sure the doors are locked when you go back in," she told Elsa. "I really, really hate leaving you unprotected."

"I will. Oaken will be here to take me and Agdar to the airport in a couple of hours anyway." She moved her hand up to touch Anna's cheek. "Now promise me that you'll be careful. Please. Don't do anything too, well, _Anna_ -ish."

Anna tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little choked. She nodded, then slid an arm around Elsa's waist, intending to pull her in for a hug. Elsa's other hand came up to cradle her face. Her lips brushed Anna's, just a faint touch but enough to make Anna's breath hitch. She pulled Elsa closer, and suddenly the hug became a hard kiss, rough and messy in its desperation, their bodies pressed flush together in the dim light of the garage.

They broke the kiss and Anna buried her face in Elsa's neck. She wished fervently for the world to revert to back to how it had been just twenty-four hours ago, when they lay intertwined in Elsa's bed, breathless and sweaty from lovemaking, and oblivious to everything except each other. Anna clung to Elsa and cursed herself for ever having picked up the phone to call Agdar in the first place.

 _Now Elsa belongs to Arendelle and not to me. I know I'm being selfish, but God, it's just not fair!_

She took a shaky breath and pulled out of Elsa's arms. If she didn't go now, she might never be able to leave. "I – I should get going."

Elsa nodded, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Be safe."

Anna pulled on her helmet while Elsa raised the garage door. She wheeled the motorcycle out and mounted it, then flipped up the helmet's faceplate. She looked back at Elsa, taking in everything about her, from her bare feet to her shapely legs to her crystal-blue eyes to her long, white-blond hair.

"Elsa, I…" She swallowed hard. _I love you_. "…I'll see you in the city."

Elsa nodded again and gave her a sad little smile. Anna's gaze stayed riveted on her as she lowered the garage door, and she wondered if this was the last time she would ever see her.

The garage door closed with a muted _thump_. Anna turned away and kicked the motorcycle's engine to life.

* * *

"Oh, shit!" Kristoff swore as the motorcycle roared out of the driveway and onto the road leading down to the town. _I should've known that the minute I left the car to get a closer look at the house that something like this would happen._ He jumped up from where he was crouched at the tree line and slogged back to the car as fast as he could. Kai had already gotten out and was watching the Honda disappear around the bend.

"She just flew by here," Kai said. "I never saw her coming. How did she get out without you seeing her?"

"Shit!" Kristoff swore again, slamming his hand on the car's hood. "I never saw the garage door open. I didn't even see a light come on. I didn't see anything until the bike cranked up."

"She's already out of sight," Kai said, peering down the road. "So what do we do? Go after the bike or up to the house?"

"I'm not sure we could catch her. That bike is a lot more agile on these mountain roads than this tank," Kristoff said. "So I guess that leaves the house and Elsa, assuming that was Aarndahl on the motorcycle."

Kai looked worried. "We're presuming that Kjarensen is still in the house, but we really don't know for a fact that she was ever there. Until the motorcycle rode off, we hadn't seen either of them since we got here."

"Goddamnit, I _knew_ you were going to say that. She better be there. If we just let Aarndahl ride away and Elsa isn't in that house, I will go out the back and straight up the mountain. And you'll have to come with me, because we're both gonna be screwed."

"So we have to go into the house." Kai pulled his sidearm and looked around nervously. I'm not sure I like this, Kristoff. It could be a setup. We might be walking into right into an ambush. You're unarmed, and we have no backup."

"I don't think we have much choice, do you?"

"No, we don't," Kai said grimly. He hefted his gun. "Just stay behind me."

* * *

Dressed in mottled white-gray hunting coveralls and boots, the three men moved quickly and quietly through the trees surrounding the mountain house. Dawn was fast approaching, but the men were virtually invisible in the snow-covered woods, and the fresh powder muffled the sounds of their movement.

Each of the men carried a 9mm semiautomatic pistol with a silencer, and a razor-sharp fighting knife, specially designed to sever the carotid with one efficient stroke. All three of the men had used their knives for just that purpose in the past, and they were prepared to do so again now.

Their orders were clear: everyone in the house must die.

If they executed their plan properly, they would be in and out in no time, perhaps even be back in Arendelle City before evening. After all, it was just two women and a middle-aged man. How hard could it be?

It would not be difficult, Fritz Schlager thought, but it definitely would not be quick, not if he had his way.

Schlager grasped his pistol awkwardly in his left hand as he brought up the rear of the trio. He had taken his right arm out of its sling, and it hung at his side. He had little movement in the useless limb, and even less feeling in it below the elbow. His brother Gustaf had not wanted him to come on this job, but once Fritz found out that Anna Aarndahl was among the targets, he begged his boss to let him in on it. He just couldn't pass up the opportunity.

She had gotten lucky at the cabin. Not only had she been in his sights three times and lived to tell about it, one of her wild shots had hit him in the arm, resulting in what he suspected was going to be permanent nerve damage. But worse than that, she was responsible for his failure to kill Elsa Kjarensen, and the blow to his pride was almost more painful than the bullet in his forearm.

Fritz intended to make Anna Aarndahl pay for the damage to both his arm and his ego. Her elimination would not be quick and painless.

He narrowed his eyes at the two men ahead of him. They were brothers, two large, hulking specimens that were even dumber than they looked. But they were as motivated as Fritz about this job, as they had also once failed to eliminate Elsa Kjarensen – she had slipped through their fingers at the airport, again with the assistance of Anna Aarndahl.

One of the brothers looked back at him, the one with the eye patch. That one might be a problem, as he also wanted revenge on Anna Aarndahl. The man's face was one ugly purple bruise from his brow to his upper lip, courtesy of the broken nose that Aarndahl had given him.

Fritz suppressed a smirk. At least Aarndahl, a willowy slip of a woman, hadn't publically beaten him hand-to-hand and left him lying on a sidewalk outside the airport.

Yes, it would be satisfying to finally run the elusive Aarndahl to ground. They would get rid of her, and then they could take care of their primary targets: Elsa Kjarensen and Agdar Erikksen.

They skirted along the edge of trees, scouting for the best spot to break for the house. The low pre-dawn light worked in their favor, but they wanted to limit their exposure once they burst from the trees. It was unlikely they would be seen, but better safe than sorry. Their last intel update said that Aarndahl was armed, and if she managed to spot them moving over the open ground, she could be deadly.

They reached a spot where the distance between the woods and the house was fairly short, and crouched behind the trees. Fritz saw what looked like a covered deck or patio surrounded by a low wall. There would be a door there leading into the house. There were windows above, probably bedrooms, but they were dark. It was unlikely they would be spotted.

The three men approached the house and slipped over the low wall around the deck, moving past the hot tub toward the solarium. Their plan was simple and direct – hit the house hard and fast. Make sure everyone inside was dead before leaving. Fritz remained on the deck to keep watch, but instructed the other two, "Kill everyone but the redhead. When you have her, come back and get me."

One of the brothers jimmied the solarium door, and the two slipped inside, moving around the pool with a swiftness that belied their bulk. Fritz turned his attention to the road, keeping a sharp eye out. No one would interfere with the job this time.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to vesfarhloc and grrlgeek72 for the beta read. Getting closer to the edge now - hope you'll stick with me._


	38. Chapter 38

_I don't own Frozen_

* * *

Elsa had changed into jeans and a sweater soon after Anna left, and now sat on the edge of her bed, staring down at the floor. The sounds of Anna's motorcycle had disappeared before she'd even made it back up to her bedroom, and the silence of the house was oppressive. Elsa had never been one who cared about being alone, but at that moment, the gap between solitude and loneliness had never seemed so narrow.

She looked around her room. Its stillness made it seem as though Anna had never been there at all, like she was a vibrant, blithe spirit that had come and gone without a trace. And all of Elsa's being seemed to have been swept into the void that she'd left behind.

She reached for the pillow that Anna had used, hugging it to her. The summery scents of sunshine and earth and grass wafted from it, and Elsa buried her face in it, inhaling deeply. Images of those beautiful sea-blue eyes, gazing at her from beneath the faceplate of a motorcycle helmet, lingered behind her closed lids.

How could one person have affected her so much? Anna, with her unique… _Anna_ -ness, had tumbled into her life, literally with guns blazing, and completely upended her ordered existence. Elsa had thought she could blame it on circumstances, the intoxication of their dangerous situation, but she knew there was more to her feelings than that. For all her emotional…inadequacies, she still thought she recognized the raw fullness that swelled in her chest when Anna was with her.

Elsa thought she might be in love.

She found it both exhilarating and terrifying.

There had been a moment earlier when she thought she might be able to tell Anna how she felt. Out there, on her balcony, with Anna captivated by her freakish abilities, the words had danced on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't get them out, and now Anna was gone.

 _Will I ever see her again?_

Elsa hugged the pillow even tighter.

Her head jerked up as a sound broke the stillness of the house. Was Agdar up and moving around? It sounded like a door closing, but too far away to be Agdar, who was in the bedroom across the hall. Elsa jumped up. Had Anna returned?

As she reached her bedroom door, it struck her: it couldn't be Anna. She would have heard the motorcycle coming up the road. Maybe it was just Agdar stumbling around, but somehow she knew that wasn't the case. Elsa's heart started thumping uncontrollably.

Had she locked all the doors? She thought she had, but she couldn't be sure. Elsa peered out into the hallway. No sign of Agdar. Her ears strained to pick up any sound. She knew she hadn't imagined the noise. She started to walk toward the stairs, but froze when she heard the sound of quiet footsteps. She dropped to her knees and crawled down the hallway, peeking over the edge of the landing when she got to the end.

She bit back a gasp. Kristoff Bjorgman and one of his squad agents – Haugland, Kai Haugland, she thought – were creeping along the main floor from the direction of the kitchen. Haugland had his gun pointed ahead of him, sweeping it back and forth as he made his way toward the great room. Kristoff was close behind him, unarmed and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Elsa was used to Kristoff being a bit disheveled, but she'd never seen him like this: wearing jeans and a ratty hockey sweater, his eyes puffy and his rugged jaw unshaven. Haugland didn't look much better. He was unshaven as well, his normally immaculate suit rumpled, and what was left of his hair stuck out in all directions.

 _Have they been staking out my house?_

Elsa could feel frost forming around her fingertips, and her mind raced. She could get out of the house without being seen – the back bedroom window opened up almost right next to the mountainside, and there was a small ledge within easy jumping distance. She could get to the ground from there. But she couldn't leave Agdar behind, and the two agents would be on them before she could get him up and dressed. And once they got out, where would they go? They didn't have a car. The NPs presumably had a car, but Elsa wasn't Anna. She had no idea how to hot-wire a car, or if it was even possible to hot-wire a police car.

Haugland and Kristoff reached the bottom of the stairs, both of their heads turning in perfect synchronization. They hadn't looked up yet, and Elsa was about to back away from the edge of the landing when movement from the hallway caught her eye.

"Look out!" she yelled as two men in white-and-gray camouflage crept in behind the NP agents.

Kristoff and Haugland jerked their heads up in surprise, then swiveled toward where she was pointing. Haugland swung his gun around, but the two men had their guns out as well, pointed directly at the agents.

"National Police!" Haugland barked out. "Drop your weapons!"

The two men ignored him, advancing on them slowly as Haugland's gun swung back and forth between them.

One of the men looked up at Elsa. She gasped. He was barely recognizable, his nose purple and swollen, but the black eye patch gave him away. _The men from the airport!_

He gave her a malicious grin. "Come down here, Miss Kjarensen."

"Stay up there, Elsa," Kristoff called. His brown eyes found hers and locked on them. "Go to your room and lock the door."

"Elsa?" Agdar appeared on the landing next to her, his hair unruly, eyes blinking sleepily. "What's going on?"

"You too, Erikksen," Eye Patch ordered. "Down here. _Now_."

Kristoff held up his hand. "No! Both of you stay up there!" He turned to the two men. "Look, there's an ERT on its way here right now. They'll be here in less than three minutes, so I suggest you either put down your weapons or get the hell out of here right now."

Eye Patch's partner chuckled. "We know there's no Emergency Response Team coming, Inspector Bjorgman."

Elsa saw Kristoff's eyes widen in astonishment as he heard his name. But that was nothing compared to the shock on his face at the man's next words:

"Agent Haugland, thanks for the assist. You can go now."

* * *

Anna slowed the bike down as she approached town, then came to a stop at the edge of an intersection, her feet setting lightly down on the pavement. She looked back over her shoulder. The winding road behind her was long and black and empty. Had it been daytime, she thought she might be able to make out the roof of Elsa's house, standing sentinel at the top.

It would be daylight soon enough, though. She could see it in the softening edges of the sky, in the hints of pink and orange peeking over the crests of the mountains. In any other situation, Anna would have stopped to savor the beauty of the sunrise, which she thought of as a magic hour when time seemed to stop for a moment, suspended between the past and the future.

If only she could suspend time now.

Why had she been in such a hurry to leave? She could have stayed. Waited at least until the car came to take Elsa and Agdar to the airport. It wouldn't delay her trip that long, and it would certainly ease her mind about their safety. Why was she running away so fast? Olaf was protected; Eugene would see to that. But what about Elsa?

Her hand tapped restlessly against the bike's throttle. She should go back. She could protect Elsa for a little while longer. It would also give her another chance to talk to Elsa. To tell her how she felt. Even if there was no future for them, Elsa deserved that much. She deserved to know that Anna loved her.

She planted one foot firmly and twisted the throttle, swinging the bike around to head back up the mountain.

As she approached Elsa's property, she caught a glint of something off the side of the road, something metallic in the trees reflecting in the beam of the motorcycle's headlamp. She slowed as she got closer. There was a car parked just off the road in the trees, a big sedan that practically screamed -

 _-Unmarked police car_. _Oh, shit! How did I miss that on my way out?_

She rode straight at the car, her headlamp shining through the windshield. Hopefully she could grab their attention and get them to chase her. She would lead them away from the house, and then lose them on the winding mountain roads.

But there was no movement around the car. Starting to panic, Anna drove right up next to it and jumped off the bike, letting it fall to the snow-covered ground. She threw off her helmet and peered in through the windows. Empty.

 _Shitshitshitshitshit!_

She sprinted up the road toward the house, pulling her pistol from the cargo pocket of her bike suit. At the last curve before the house came into full view, she ducked behind a tree and peered up at it. The first rays of the dawn were beginning to fall across Elsa's house. What they revealed chilled Anna to the bone.

Two men dressed in winter camouflage were sliding over the wall around Elsa's deck. Were they NPs, finally running them to ground? Or were they the hired killers from the airport, coming to finish the job? _Oh please, God, don't let it be them!_ It had to be them, though – the NPs wouldn't be sneaking over the wall in camouflage. They would pull their guns and badges and come straight in.

The two men had already disappeared over the wall. They would be inside the house in seconds. She prayed that Elsa had locked all the doors.

Anna jumped up and raced toward the deck. She hauled herself over the wall, landing in a crouch near the hot tub. Footprints in the light dusting of snow covering the deck led straight from the wall to the solarium door. As she rose to dash to the door, she sensed a flicker of movement to her left.

Her instinctive dodge saved her life.

The knife raked down her arm instead of plunging into her back, and a heavy body crashed into her side. She hit the deck and rolled onto her back, stifling a cry of pain. The heavy mesh of her bike suit had absorbed most of the blow, but she could feel warm blood running down her arm.

Her attacker, a burly man with thick muttonchop whiskers, didn't hesitate, lunging at her again. Anna managed to get her knees tucked up and kicked out at the man's midsection as he dove at her, catching him with the soles of her boots. She grabbed his coat with her good arm and levered him over her head. She heard a hard thud and a grunt of pain when he hit the side of the hot tub.

Anna scrambled for her gun, which she had lost when the guy slammed into her. She wouldn't have any qualms about shooting him down and raising all kinds of hell. Fuck stealth. Right now she _wanted_ the NPs to come running.

Her hand had just closed around her pistol's grip when Muttonchops slammed into her again. She hit the deck floor hard, her wind leaving her with a _whoosh_ when he landed on top of her. He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over to face him.

Anna gasped for breath as Muttonchops settled heavily astride her hips. He scowled at her, his breathing labored as he brandished the knife under her nose.

"Time for a little payback, Anna Aarndahl."

Anna almost crossed her eyes trying to keep the knife in sight. "P-payback?" she gasped, still sucking for air.

"For the cabin. You screwed up my job." His eyes held a murderous gleam.

 _The shooter from the cabin!_ No wonder he wanted payback. She was certain one of her shots had hit him that night. She forced her eyes away from the knife, looking him over for signs of injury.

There. His right arm. It hung awkwardly by his side, like he didn't have complete control of it.

Quick as a cat, she slapped his knife aside and slammed her closed fist against his right forearm as hard as she could. He cried out in pain. She bucked him off her, then twisted away and dove for her gun. Her hand closed around the barrel just as he grabbed her ankle. She swung the gun around desperately as she fell, and heard a _crack_ as the butt smashed against Muttonchop's head.

He released her ankle and she lashed out with a kick, catching him on the cheekbone. He fell prone on the deck, stunned. Anna rolled to her feet and stood over him. When he moaned and tried to push himself up, she pistol-whipped him across the back of his head. He collapsed on the deck and lay still.

Anna dropped her to knees, shaking and nauseous. Then the pain in her wounded arm hit her full force and she bent over, emptying her stomach onto the snow-dusted wood next to Muttonchops.

She straightened up, wiping her sleeve across her mouth, and stared at the man lying motionless next to her. Was he dead? She reached out cautiously and pressed two fingers into the side of his throat. A slow pulse beat against her fingertips.

She pushed herself to her feet and poked at him with a toe. He didn't respond. Anna patted him down and found a cell phone and a suppressed pistol. She crushed the phone under her boot and tossed it out into the yard, then thrust the pistol against the base of his skull, her finger tightening on the trigger before she caught herself.

 _I can't do this._

She couldn't shoot him in cold blood. That was an execution, not self-defense.

Instead, she pressed the tip of the suppressor against his knee and pulled the trigger, flinching at the spurt of blood that followed the quiet clap of the shot. Anna swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Then she shoved the man's pistol into her cargo pocket. Tightening her grip on her own gun, she hustled into the house, praying with every labored breath that she wasn't too late.

* * *

"K-Kai…?" Kristoff stammered, turning to look at his partner. "Wh-what's going on?"

Kai's mouth tightened into a grim line. He didn't look at Kristoff as he lowered his gun.

"Kai?" Kristoff repeated. He felt light-headed from shock, his heart pounding and his breath coming in short puffs as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. "It can't be. Please, tell me it's not…"

Kai finally looked at him, his expression resigned. "I'm sorry, Kristoff. This wasn't the way it was supposed to work out. My plan was to get you out of here alive, _and_ get your suspension lifted." He looked at Eye Patch, who shook his head. Kai's burly shoulders sagged.

" _You're_ the leak?" Kristoff asked. "Not Persie?"

"No, Persie wasn't the leak," Kai replied. Kristoff saw a flash of anger in his narrowed eyes. "He was a good man."

"But the money in the safe-deposit box?"

"All that came from his stamp collecting and trading. He operated all of that completely in cash. I knew about it – I even did a few of his shows with him. He was incredibly knowledgeable." Kai gave a slight shrug. "Persie was cheating the tax collectors. I failed to see a problem with it, since most of it was going towards his children's education anyway."

"You let me think he was the mole!"

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Well, obviously I didn't want you to think it was me. When you found Persie's box, it became an easy way to deflect suspicion. Sinclair and Chifu believed it immediately. Unfortunately, they thought you were involved as well."

Eye Patch interrupted impatiently, "There's a recording we're supposed to get from Erikksen."

"Yes," Kai said. "In his briefcase. It's most likely upstairs."

Eye Patch jerked his head at his partner, who took the stairs two at a time and brushed by Elsa and Erikksen. A few minutes later he reappeared on the landing, carrying a briefcase.

"Is this it?" the man asked Erikksen.

Erikksen said nothing. The man raised his pistol and pointed it at Elsa, who cringed back as the tip of its suppressor hovered just inches from her head. Kristoff went cold as the man cocked his weapon.

"Yes, yes, that's it!" Erikksen almost screamed.

"Show me," the man said, slamming the briefcase into Erikksen's chest. He kept his gun trained on Elsa.

Erikksen fumbled the briefcase open and dug around the inside. A moment later he held out a tiny data card. The man took it, turned it over a few times, then threw it on the floor and ground it under his heel. Kristoff watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help but think he had just been given a preview of the next few minutes of his life.

The _last_ few minutes of his life

If these people could turn _Kai_ , then they were capable of almost anything.

"Where is Aarndahl?" Eye Patch demanded.

After a short hesitation, Elsa said in a broken voice, "She…she decided we weren't worth all the trouble, so she left us here."

Eye Patch scowled. "It doesn't matter. We'll hunt her down when we're finished here. Bring 'em down," he ordered his partner.

The second man herded Elsa and Erikksen downstairs to stand with Kristoff.

"How, Kai?" Kristoff asked, glaring bitterly at his partner. "Did they just tail us all the way here? I never saw anybody."

Kai shook his head. "There's a transmitter in my car. They let us find the right house and then they followed."

"Why, Kai?" Kristoff was desperate to understand. Kai had been his mentor, the solid foundation of his squad, steady, reliable, and incorruptible. Or so he'd thought.

Kai's expression hardened a bit. "I've been an agent for over twenty-five years. Twenty-five damn good years. I've put away more than my fair share of criminals and low-lifes, but I'm still just an agent. A grunt in the field." His voice held a bitter edge. "I'm old enough to be your father, and you're my _supervisor_. Because I wouldn't play the political game with the Muscovians. I wouldn't lie and go along, and my career was ruined because of that."

He met Kristoff's eyes and looked genuinely regretful. "Kristoff, you're one of the department's finest agents. Believe me, I did not want it to happen like this. We were supposed to stay outside and let these men carry out their assignment. Then once I had the all-clear, we would come in and find the bodies. Your name would be clear, and this investigation would end. The plan went sideways when Aarndahl took off like that."

Kai glared at Eye Patch. "But if this idiot hadn't called my name, I still could've come up with a way for you to walk away with me. He blew it for you."

Eye Patch shrugged. "Didn't know it was important to you. But you better get out of here. It's getting lighter outside. Give us a half-hour, then call the cops. Make up any cover story you like."

Kristoff clenched his fists, shaking with rage, his gaze boring in on Kai's. "I've got one for you, Agent Haugland. I come to you, desperate to clear my name, convince you to come up here with me, even though you think it's a wild goose chase. I go in the front; you cover the side. You hear shots, you run in, and find us all dead. You see someone running and empty your piece at them, but miss. You chase them, almost get killed yourself, but they get away. You call the locals, then HQ, and fill them in. Sinclair comes flying up. She bitches you out for coming, but hey, you're just standing by your boss." His voice cracked a little. "Loyalty, you know. Good old Kai, he would never leave anyone's ass hanging out to dry. Sinclair and Chifu investigate, don't really find anything. I get labeled as the leak. Case closed."

Eye Patch grinned at Kai. "Sounds good to me."

Kai dropped his head briefly before meeting Kristoff's eyes again. "I'm sorry, Kristoff. I truly am." He turned away.

"You're sorry!?" Kristoff yelled at his retreating back. "Tell that to Bulda and Grandpabbie! Tell that to Aggie Norberg and her kids!"

"Shut up," Eye Patch ordered. He gestured to his partner. "We'll do them here. Get this over with and get out of here."

The other man grabbed Erikksen by the arm and forced him to his knees. "You first."

"No!" Elsa cried, and Kristoff felt a blast of icy air swirl around him. In fact, he could see his breath misting in front of him. He heard a crackling sound and looked down, where he swore he saw ice forming under Elsa's feet. _What the hell?_

"I take it that's a special request from your boss," Erikksen said to the man, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Who? Who is their boss? Who is behind this?" Kristoff demanded, forgetting about Elsa. He advanced on Eye Patch. "I want a name!"

Eye Patch put his pistol in Kristoff's face. "Back off."

"It doesn't matter anyway," the other man said. "It's not like you're going to - "

A gunshot rang out, and the man hit the floor, blood pouring from the back of his head.

"What the - ?" Eye Patch whirled around and took the second blast right in the face. He dropped next to his partner.

Kai stood over the bodies, a wisp of smoke still trailing from the muzzle of his service pistol.

"That was for Persie Norberg, you bastards," he said.

Kristoff felt another gust of that arctic air. He stared at Elsa, who had her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide with fright. Cold seemed to radiate from her entire body, though she didn't seem to be affected by it. Kristoff shivered, and he could see Erikksen rubbing his own arms as his breath fogged in the air.

He pushed his questions aside as Kai spoke again. "I didn't know they were going to kill Persie, Kristoff, I really didn't. But it happened, and there was nothing I could do but bide my time."

"So you let me think he was the leak. Let me chase my tail looking into it. Watched me get suspended, my career ruined."

Kai just looked at him, his pistol hanging by his side. "There wasn't much I could do to prevent that. My intention was to get you out of this, get you reinstated, let you be a hero. Persie would be labeled as the mole. He's dead; it wouldn't matter to him."

"It matters to his family, Kai."

Kai's normally benign features screwed into an angry snarl. "I don't have to explain this to you or anyone else, you puppy. I'm not proud of what I did, but I have my reasons. Don't presume to lecture me on something you know nothing about!" He raised his pistol. "Bitterness and pain? I have twenty-plus years of that."

Kristoff raised his hands and backed off, eyeing the pistol. "You did just save our lives, Kai. I'm sure that'll count for something."

"You think so, do you?"

Kristoff moved one hand slowly to his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. "Look, I'm going to call Sinclair, have her send a team up here, and maybe - "

"No. Put the phone down." Kai gestured at the floor with his gun. "Now!"

Kristoff let the phone clatter to the floor. "It's over, Kai."

The older man shook his head. "It's never over. You make one mistake and it comes back to haunt you. People find out, and you can never walk away."

Kristoff blinked at that statement. "Is someone blackmailing you, Kai? Is that why you're doing this?"

Kai closed his eyes briefly. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," Kristoff said softly.

Kai let out a long sigh. "When my wife got cancer, she needed highly specialized treatments. The Health Service wouldn't cover them. 'Too experimental,' they said. 'Too expensive' is what they really meant. I mortgaged our house, emptied our bank accounts, but it wasn't enough. Then someone came to me and offered to cover the treatments if I would deliver some sensitive documents on an energy regulation investigation. What was I supposed to do? Let her die? So I delivered, and they delivered. But from then on, I had a new employer." He shook his head. "But the ironic thing is that after all of that, she's relapsed. She's going to die anyway, sooner rather than later."

"I'm really sorry about that, Kai, you know I am. But that's not their fault. Please, let them go," Kristoff pleaded, waving at Elsa and Erikksen. "It's over."

Kai shook his head. "I came to do a job. You know me. Agent Reliable. I always finish what I start." He bent down and picked up Eye Patch's suppressed pistol, aiming it squarely at his former partner. "For what it's worth…I _am_ sorry, Kristoff."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And there it is. Hope everyone is still enjoying... Drop me a line and let me know what you think._


	39. Chapter 39

_Still not mine_

* * *

Elsa stood frozen in place as she stared at the bodies at Haugland's feet. Her emotions churned so badly she could hardly tell what she was feeling anymore. The wild swings of the past few days - from fear for her life to the elation of love to the crushing realization of her responsibilities - threatened to drain her, and now it seemed that everything had circled back to the beginning: in the gunsights of a man who was prepared to take her life. Not just hers, but also the lives of Agdar and Kristoff, who had done nothing more than their duty. Haugland was a man of the law, a man that she had trusted, and he had now betrayed not just her, but his country as a whole. And she was helpless to stop him.

 _Or am I?_

Elsa felt the tingling in her palms as ice gathered there and began a quick climb, winding around her fingertips and spreading up to her wrists. A ball of _something_ that was both white-hot and arctic cold seemed to form in her chest, throbbing with an energy that demanded to be released. Could she stop him with this strange power that she had? Bits of Tante Ingrid's stories flashed through her mind, those of ancient queens using icy swords and blasts of winter magic to vanquish their enemies.

Could she take Haugland down with her power? So far she had done nothing with it beyond icing her own home and creating some pretty snow showers. Was she capable of using it as a weapon?

She closed her eyes and some of the energy seemed to pulse down her arms and collect in her hands. Could she channel that energy, shoot it at Haugland? She opened her eyes to see him pick up Eye Patch's gun and point it at Kristoff.

"For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry, Kristoff," Haugland said.

Elsa took a deep breath, preparing to release her magic.

The loud _click_ of a semiautomatic pistol cocking stopped her. Elsa jerked her head toward the sound.

"Drop the pistol!" Anna barked out. She stood at the edge of the room, her own pistol aimed squarely at the rogue agent. "Now! Or I'll blow a huge-ass hole in your skull."

Haugland froze and dropped the gun. Elsa felt some of the energy recede from her hands, and her shoulders sank with relief.

"Both of them," Anna ordered, striding across the room. Haugland quickly dropped his own gun as well. Anna pressed the muzzle of her .45 against the back of the agent's head. "God, I'm so tempted to shoot you anyway, but at least you kept me from having to fight these two gorillas. Now kick those pistols over to your partner."

Haugland kicked the two pistols across the floor to Kristoff, who shoved Haugland's into the waist of his jeans and trained the suppressed one on his former colleague. "Down on the floor, Kai. Now!" he ordered. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Haugland knelt on the floor, hands on his thighs. Anna lowered her pistol and hurried over to Elsa, who threw her arms around her. They just stood there for a moment, clinging to each other.

"Anna," Elsa breathed, shaky with relief. She buried her face in Anna's hair, breathing deeply as the familiar summery scent greeted her again . "Thank God you came back."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Anna whispered with a strangled laugh. "I leave you alone for a couple of minutes and you manage to attract all kinds of trouble."

"I do seem to have a knack for it," Elsa murmured with a little laugh of her own. "After all, I attracted _you_."

"God, you're a wiseass."

"I learned it from you." Elsa closed her eyes as Anna's lips brushed her neck, and she gave her a convulsive squeeze. Anna let out a little squeak of pain. Elsa jerked back. "What? What's wrong?"

Anna grimaced. "My arm," she managed.

Elsa let out a little gasp when she saw the gash in the sleeve of the mesh suit. It ran half the length of Anna's upper arm, and fresh blood stained the edges. She reached for it, but Anna pulled away.

"It will be okay, Elsa," she said from between clenched teeth.

Elsa held tight to her hand and started to object, but was interrupted by Kristoff demanding, "Now will someone _please_ tell me what the hell is going on?"

Agdar got to his feet. "I will, but my proof was on that data card that these boys destroyed. I have a backup copy in a safe place, but it's not immediately available. It will have to wait until we get to the city."

Kristoff nudged Haugland with his foot. "You obviously know what this is all about, Kai. Cooperate with me, and I'll put in a good word. It will help with your sentencing."

Haugland shook his head. "I can't. That would be tantamount to a death sentence."

"Yeah? How's that, considering that Arendelle doesn't have the death penalty?" Kristoff reminded.

"My death sentence won't come from His Majesty's courts," Haugland said. "These people have a much longer reach."

"Then who?" Kristoff demanded. "Who is behind this that everyone is so afraid of?"

"Agent Bjorgman," Agdar said, touching his arm, "I'm sure that these particular gentlemen are waiting to hear about the outcome of all this. They may send more men if they don't hear anything soon. We need to stop that from happening."

Kristoff glared at him. "Why should I trust you? What I should do is call the cops and hold all of you until I can get my people up here. Or just take you and Elsa and him" – he flicked his pistol at Haugland – "back to Headquarters, get my job back and walk away a hero."

"Kristoff, please, I promise we'll explain everything soon," Elsa said. "But we must take care of the men behind these…people." She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand at the dead men.

"You can add one more thug to your count," Anna chimed in. "He's out by the hot tub. Not dead, though, just knocked out. He's not going anywhere." She tucked her injured arm against her side, and Elsa winced at her obvious pain.

"Looks like everyone knows what's going on except for me," Kristoff said, clearly frustrated. He looked at Anna, taking in her bloody sleeve and the pistol in her hand. "Miss Aarndahl, you just saved all of our lives. You're probably the most innocent person in this room. What do you think?"

Anna shot Elsa a glance before she replied, "It seems unbelievable, but this goes a whole lot deeper than a corruption case, even corruption on this scale. This is about national survival. I can't say any more about that until Elsa and Agdar are ready to talk about it, but we need to do what Agdar says."

Kristoff just studied her for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I'm listening. What do you suggest, Erikksen?"

Agdar jerked his head at Haugland. "That we use your friend there to communicate with them."

"And what are we going to tell them?"

"That the operation was a success, except that their men were killed in the ensuing battle. Elsa and I are dead, and the data card was destroyed."

"What about me?" Anna asked.

Agdar gave her a wink. "We'll let you be our wild card. That role seems to suit you. We don't want them to get too comfortable, after all."

"All right, Kai, get up." Kristoff prodded the older agent with his pistol. Haugland got up and Kristoff motioned him into the great room to sit on the couch. "You have a way of contacting these people?"

Haugland said nothing, just looked at his feet.

"Come on, Kai." There was an edge to Kristoff's voice now. "Work with me on this and I'll help you. You were ready to kill all of us, and I shouldn't give a reindeer's ass what happens to you. But I do." He paused and swallowed. "Last chance."

Haugland's mouth tightened in a grim line. He reached into his jacket.

"No, no, no," Kristoff ordered, raising his pistol. "Two fingers. Nice and slow."

Haugland slowly put two fingers into his jacket and came out with his cell phone, which he held up for Kristoff. Then he flexed his big hands nervously as he looked at Agdar. "What exactly do you want me to say?"

Agdar told him. Haugland made the call, and when the line picked up, he said, "This is…" - he looked a bit embarrassed – "Trump Card." He repeated exactly what Agdar had told him, then hung up and looked around. "All right, it's done."

"Did they buy it?" Anna asked.

"I believe so," Haugland answered. "Although you can't always tell with these people."

Anna sagged against Elsa. "Olaf is safe now…"

"Yes, and your cousin too," Elsa said, hugging her tightly. _And you. You're safe too, thank God._ She stroked Anna's hair. Anna pressed closer, her good arm circling Elsa's waist.

Agdar took a deep breath. "Well, it's bought us some time, at least. We need to get back to the city." He turned and headed for the stairs.

"Hang on," Kristoff ordered. "There's a few things that we have to take care of first. Like the dead bodies over there. And I need to report in." He glared at Haugland. "And get him into a cell."

Haugland shook his head. "Loyalty only goes so far, I see."

"You made your choices, Kai," Kristoff ground out. "You'll go to the dungeons, but you'll live. That's more choice than Persie had."

"We need to leave here right now," Agdar cut in. "When we're out of the area, you can call the police. Once we get back to the city, Elsa needs to go into protective custody - "

"Wait a minute!" Elsa protested. "You said - "

Agdar gave her a look that clearly said _not now_. Elsa fumed, but was not willing to get into it with him in front of Kristoff and Haugland. She would deal with it when she got him alone.

" - and then I'll sit down with you and your boss and tell you everything I know," Agdar finished. "But we _must_ keep it a secret. Like Anna said, this goes far beyond me and the crimes I've committed. If these people find out we're working with you, we may never get the proof we need to stop them."

"And what do you expect in return for telling us everything?" Kristoff asked.

"For myself? Nothing. If I go to the dungeons, then so be it."

"Agdar, no!" Elsa cried.

Agdar held up his hand, silencing her with a sharp gesture. "I'll accept that. But Elsa must have protection until this whole thing plays out."

He met Elsa's eyes and shook his head slightly. She pressed her lips together as she suddenly understood that if she continued along this path, if she ended up where Agdar expected her to, she would be the person who ultimately decided his fate. _A royal pardon_. The realization was both heady and frightening.

Kristoff looked back and forth between the two of them, his expression troubled.

"Agent Bjorgman, if you trust me, I _will_ find a way to bring these men to you. Believe me, I have my own scores to settle with them," Agdar said.

"These people, they're the ones that had Persie killed?" Kristoff asked.

Agdar nodded. "Yes."

Anna put in, "Don't forget the asshole out by the hot tub. He's the guy who pulled the trigger at the cabin."

"What?" Kristoff asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, I was there. I shot him, messed up his arm. He said he wanted payback on me for screwing it up…" Anna's voice trailed off, and she leaned heavily against Elsa.

Elsa frowned; she didn't like the way Anna shivered, or how she seemed to be supporting most of Anna's weight. Was it her adrenaline wearing off, or was Anna's injury worse than she was letting on? "Agdar," she said anxiously, "I think Anna needs a doctor."

Anna pulled away from Elsa and straightened up, shaking her head. "I'm fine," she insisted. But her wan face and slumped shoulders seemed to say otherwise.

"All the more reason to get out of here now," Agdar said. He turned to Kristoff. "You have a car?" Kristoff nodded. "Good. You can drive us to the airport. I have a charter flight laid on to take us back."

Kristoff turned to Haugland. "Keys," he snapped. Haugland tossed them over. "All right, let's get going." He gestured with his pistol. "Let's go, Kai."

Haugland stood up shakily, his face suddenly pale. He leaned forward, putting one hand on the coffee table to support himself.

"What's wrong?" Kristoff demanded. "Are you all right?"

Haugland moved around the table, but looked wobbly on his feet. One hand slid to his chest. "I've felt better, quite honestly."

His head lolled to the side and his left shoulder drooped. Elsa moved closer, alarmed by his pallid complexion. Anna might not be the only one who needed medical attention. Kristoff started toward him, but he dropped to one knee, his features contorted in pain.

"Oh, God," he moaned, pressing his hand hard against his chest.

"Kai!" Kristoff cried, reaching for him.

 _He's having a heart attack!_ Elsa realized as the man slowly sank to the floor, his body twitching.

In hindsight, no one could have predicted Haugland's next move. It was quick. Too quick, it seemed, for a man of his age and bulk. His hand dropped to his ankle, and came back up gripping a snub-nose revolver. The gun was raised and aimed before anyone could react.

All Elsa saw was the dark maw of the gun's muzzle and the flash of it firing before everything went black.

* * *

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Anna saw everything with crystal clarity: the old agent clutching his chest and going down to one knee, and then the gun, a snub-nosed revolver, coming up in his hand, pointed directly at Elsa.

She saw him pull the trigger, heard the deafening _crack_ of it firing.

But despite the slow-motion quality of the moment, Anna could not move fast enough.

The bullet struck Elsa in the chest. She gasped once and then fell.

"Elsa!" Anna screamed, lunging for her. She caught Elsa just before she hit the floor, ignoring the burning pain that shot through her injured arm. "Elsa! Oh God, Elsa!"

She sank to the floor with Elsa in her arms, her panic escalating when ice spread across the floor from beneath Elsa's body. She was vaguely aware of the muted _clap_ of suppressed gunshots and the _thud_ of a heavy body hitting the floor. But she could only focus on the wet rattle of Elsa's breathing and the whimpers of pain that escaped from her lips along with fine droplets of blood.

"Elsa, Elsa!" Anna ripped at Elsa's sweater, exposing the horrible bloody hole in her chest. "Oh my God, Elsa!"

Agdar dropped to his knees next to her, his face a mask of blank horror. He put his hand on one of Elsa's, then snatched it back with a little hiss. "Anna, she's freezing cold!"

Anna stared at the ice seeping from Elsa's hands. As she watched, the flow slowed to a trickle, and then stopped altogether. She whipped her gaze back to Elsa's face just in time to see her eyes slip closed. Her already fair skin was taking on a sick pallor. Anna hugged her closer. She could almost feel the warmth of life spilling from Elsa with each labored breath. "No, no, no!" she cried.

Kristoff slid up next to them on his knees. "How bad?"

Anna just looked at him in anguish. He tore Elsa's sweater further open and assessed the wound. "Bad," he grimaced. "The hole's right near her heart, and the slug's still in her. We need to get her to a hospital fast."

Anna took several deep breaths, trying to calm down and think. They could call the paramedics, but who knew how long it would take them to get here? And paramedics would mean local cops, which would mean media as well. If there was media, Hans and Weselton would learn about the lie. If Elsa survived, they would come looking for her again. A quick glance at Agdar confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.

They would have to take Elsa to the hospital themselves.

"Your car," she said to Kristoff. "Lights and sirens?"

"What?" he asked.

"Your car has lights and sirens, right?!" she screamed.

"Yes, yes!" he said.

"Go get it, go get it now!" she ordered.

Kristoff jumped up and started to dash from the house. Then he stopped next to Haugland, who was on the floor with two bloody bullet holes in his chest, his eyes open but blank. Kristoff lifted Haugland's NP credentials from his belt, then bolted out the front door.

Anna gathered Elsa closer and tried to stand up, struggling for purchase on Elsa's ice and crying out at the pain in her injured arm. Just when she thought she might drop her, Agdar was there, taking Elsa from her gently. He cradled Elsa against his chest, and they left the house as fast as they could, reaching the front gate just as Kristoff pulled up in the car.

Anna scrambled into the back seat. Agdar laid Elsa across her lap before jumping into the passenger seat beside Kristoff. Kristoff floored the accelerator and roared down the mountain, lights flashing and siren wailing. Anna hugged Elsa against her body, every prayer she'd ever learned spilling from her lips.

* * *

 _*run and hides*_


	40. Chapter 40

_The usual disclaimers apply_

 _A/N: This story just got its 100th favorite! **wintryspice** , you win the rubber chicken! Seriously, thanks to everyone - I really didn't expect this to do as well as it has!_

* * *

Kristoff had retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of the car before he picked them up. Anna worked feverishly on Elsa, using the gauze and bandages to try to stem the bleeding, and giving her oxygen from the portable bottle, but none of it seemed to help. Elsa wasn't regaining consciousness, and her pulse under Anna's fingertips grew weaker with every passing second.

"Faster, please!" Anna cried from the back seat. She moved the oxygen mask aside just enough to wipe flecks of blood from around Elsa's mouth. Elsa's limbs seemed to be growing colder, and Anna clung to her, trying to give her heat from her own body, as though it would do any good. She braced her feet against the seat in front of her to hold them steady as Kristoff whipped around the curves, tires screeching on the asphalt.

"Stay with me, Elsa, stay with me," Anna murmured, pressing her lips into Elsa's pale blonde hair. "I've got you."

The car roared up to the emergency entrance of the local hospital, sirens echoing off the building, and came to a halt with a loud squeal of tires. Kristoff or Agdar must have called ahead, because the car doors were immediately jerked open, and several pairs of arms reached into the car to move Elsa to a gurney. Anna stumbled out of the car and followed the fast-moving medics into the hospital, only to have the emergency room doors close in her face.

Through the small windows in the doors, Anna watched helplessly as doctors labored over Elsa for what seemed to be an eternity, trying to get her vitals stabilized, her heart regulated, the internal bleeding stopped. None of it seemed to be working. Monitors shrieked and flashed, and Anna's heart leapt into her throat as one of the doctors yelled for a crash cart.

Anna pressed her face against the window, staring in numb disbelief as the doctor shouted "Clear!" and placed the paddles on Elsa's chest. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs as Elsa's body repeatedly jolted under the powerful current. Her own body jerked along with every surge that went through Elsa, and she took bare notice of the thin layer of frost that formed around the edges of the windows.

Only when she saw the heart monitor go from a flat line to its regular peaks and valleys was Anna able to even breathe again. She sagged against the wall next to the ER doors, covering her face.

Then the doors burst open. Before she could even voice a question, a strong hand grabbed her arm, and she found herself being hustled onto an elevator and up to the roof, where she followed Elsa's gurney onto an aeromedical transport helicopter. They were flying Elsa to a trauma center in Arendelle City, someone explained while strapping her into a seat. Anna listened with half an ear as she stared at the gurney. Somewhere amidst the tubes and wires and bags of blood and fluids was the woman she loved, and Anna was unable to do anything for her. Pawing desperately around the sheets at the edge of the gurney, she found a cold pale hand and clutched it tightly as the helicopter lifted off. She spent the entire flight with her eyes closed, her lips pressed to Elsa's icy fingers.

When the chopper landed, Elsa was rushed into emergency surgery, while Anna was escorted to a treatment room. Despite her protests, her bike suit was stripped away, and a bespectacled young doctor tut-tutted over the gash in her arm. She gritted her teeth as he cleaned it and gave her a local anesthetic. He chit-chatted while he sutured the wound, his amiable banter striking a discordant counterpoint to Anna's heavy mood. By the time he tied off the last stitch, she was ready to strangle him, and after he bandaged her arm, she fled the room without acknowledging his instructions for caring for it.

 _How did such a cheerful idiot get to be an ER doc?_

She ran to the operating theater's waiting room. Surely they would have some news about Elsa by now. But the waiting area was deserted except for the hospital staff, who looked at her with sympathy when she asked about Elsa. She was still in surgery, they said.

Anna paced the waiting room restlessly, alternately wringing her hands and shoving them deep into her pockets. She said every prayer she knew. She made up some new ones. She seriously considered calling her old school and asking the sisters to pray. Anything to help, since Anna was incapable of doing anything for Elsa herself. And that thought ate away at her without remorse.

She cursed herself for ever calling Agdar Erikksen. If she just could have left well enough alone, she and Elsa would be on their way out of the country. But she'd been selfish. She'd wanted it all – both her life in Arendelle _and_ Elsa. If they had left, Arendelle wouldn't have a queen, but Elsa would alive and well and Anna would have her for herself. Now, thanks to her selfishness, it was possible that she and Arendelle both would lose Elsa.

How could she have let this happen? After everything they'd been through together, the number of times she'd saved Elsa already, and she couldn't handle the job when it really counted. How had Haugland, that fat old sonofabitch, gotten that shot off? Why couldn't she have pushed Elsa aside, taken the bullet herself? Over and over, it replayed in her head.

The revolver coming up.

The shot ringing out.

Elsa collapsing.

Anna slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands as sobs wracked her slender body.

* * *

Kristoff and Agdar found Anna still curled against the waiting room wall when they arrived at the hospital. They had taken Agdar's chartered flight from Gjoheim back to the city, where his boss, Lieutenant Sinclair, had met them with a NP staff car and brought them to the hospital.

Kristoff stood a few steps away as Agdar crouched beside Anna and touched her shoulder. She lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes glassy and faraway. Agdar said something to her and she shook her head. Then she buried her face in his chest and he swallowed her in a hug.

Despite his burning need to hear the full account behind the events of the morning, Kristoff tamped down on his impatience. It was clear that neither Agdar Erikksen nor Anna Aarndahl would be going anywhere or talking to anyone until they heard something about Elsa's condition. From what little Agdar had told him so far, it seemed he would be in for an incredible story.

And he wanted it to start with the ice he'd seen streaming from Elsa's hands.

He stiffened as he recalled Grandpabbie's ramblings about strange magic and ice mages, his penchant for ancient folklore. Was there more to those stories than Kristoff was aware?

 _That's just your exhaustion talking, Bjorgman._

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. His body screamed for rest; after spending the better part of the last forty-eight hours in a car, he was stiff and achy, but his mind was still running in overdrive, ramped up on caffeine and adrenaline. He could still picture Kai, gripping that revolver, squeezing off the shot that took Elsa down. Kristoff had still had his own gun trained on Kai; how the bulky agent had moved so fast, he didn't know. Their gazes had locked as Kai swung the revolver in his direction, lining it up on him. He had no doubt that Kai would pull the trigger. He had the nerve, the balls to kill.

Did Kristoff?

 _Apparently I do._

His finger had tightened on his own trigger as the world seemed to slow down, as though gravity had been magnified. Kai was a NP agent. His mentor. A traitor. A killer.

It had been now or never.

Kristoff closed his eyes as he relived pulling the trigger. Once. A second time. The suppressed pistol's report was quiet, the recoil short. His aim was perfect. Kai's body jerked twice, and he gave Kristoff a beseeching look as he went down, the revolver falling from his hand. Then he hit the floor and didn't move.

 _And now he's dead._

That image would haunt Kristoff forever.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see Lieutenant Sinclair. He had called her from the hospital in Gjoheim, telling her just enough to have her running to catch a NP plane. He'd told her to belay, that he would be heading back with Agdar Erikksen and to meet them at the private airfield with a car. Just her, he'd insisted; no one else could come. She'd accepted that without question, and Kristoff didn't know if it had been the tone of his voice or the stunning content of his few words about his situation.

"Any word on Kjarensen yet?" she asked, looking at Agdar and Anna huddled on the floor.

He shook his head. "Not yet, I don't think."

Then the doors leading to the surgical theater swung open and a surgeon trudged out, pulling her mask down around her neck. Sweaty tendrils of black hair escaped from beneath her cap, and her dark, almond-shaped eyes were weary. "Who's here for the gunshot victim?" she asked.

Anna and Agdar got to their feet, apprehensive looks on their faces. Kristoff and Sinclair approached as well. Elsa was on her way to the ICU, the doctor explained. She was stable for the time being. The bullet from Haugland's revolver was a hollow-point, and it had tumbled through Elsa's body like a runaway boulder, damaging her internal organs. The hemorrhaging had been severe.

"She's young and strong," the doctor said, "and for now, she's alive. She has a chance."

"A _chance_?" Anna croaked out.

"That's the only assurance I can give you right now," the doctor cautioned. "We'll know more soon."

The exhausted doctor turned away. Anna watched her leave, her face a portrait of abject misery. Kristoff put his hand on her shoulder.

"Anna, if she's survived until now, I have to believe she's going to make it," he said. Anna looked up at him, biting her lip, and gave him a small nod. He gestured toward Sinclair, who was headed for the waiting room door. "Come on. Let's get some coffee and talk."

They followed Sinclair to a private room down the hall from the surgical theater. Kristoff introduced Anna to his boss, then fetched coffee for all four of them from a machine in the corner.

When they were all settled at the table, Kristoff said to Sinclair, "I think Agdar should tell you his story."

Sinclair cast a suspicious eye at Agdar. "You're willing to do this?"

"I am." Agdar sipped his coffee. "But first, tell me: what's more important to you? What I did, or arresting the person who killed your agent?"

Sinclair leaned forward, glaring at him. "I'm not prepared to discuss any sort of deal with you, Erikksen."

Agdar shrugged. "When I tell you my story, you will be. But I do have one non-negotiable condition: you will let me deal with these people in my own way."

"And why should I do that?"

The door to the room opened and another voice interrupted them. "Because this has gone from being a criminal case to a matter of national security."

They turned to see a lean, ascetic-looking man step into the room and close the door behind him. He wore his graying hair in a crewcut just barely long enough to part, and he stood ramrod-straight, looking uncomfortable in his suit despite its fine tailoring. Kristoff thought that he had to be military.

Agdar confirmed it for him. "Lieutenant Sinclair, Agent Bjorgman, this is Colonel Markus Gunnarsen, commander of His Majesty's Own." He stood and extended his hand. "Thank you for coming, Markus."

Gunnarsen gave each person at the table a curt nod as Agdar did the introductions, then pulled up a chair and joined them.

Sinclair eyed him with skepticism. "Not to impugn you, Colonel, but do you have some identification?" Gunnarsen pulled out his billfold and removed his ID card, extending it to Sinclair. She examined it carefully before handing it back to him. "Why is His Majesty's guard force interested in this? I've never heard of them getting involved in criminal investigations, or investigations of any sort, really, unless they're directly related to the King's safety. And this case is highly classified."

Agdar chuckled. "Aren't cases classified to keep the suspect from finding out he's being investigated? Since I know you're investigating me, that doesn't really apply anymore, does it?"

Kristoff smothered a smile. Sinclair shot him a withering look.

"Not funny, Erikksen," she said through gritted teeth.

"You're right, it's not," Agdar said. "Trust me, Lieutenant, my alleged transgressions are not why Colonel Gunnarsen is here. But they are intertwined. And they pale in comparison to the importance of what I'm about to tell you."

Sinclair scowled as her eyes darted back and forth between Agdar and Gunnarsen. "If the colonel has no interest in your alleged crimes – alleged by your employee Elsa Kjarensen, I might add – then why is he here?"

Agdar shot a glance at Anna before he replied quietly, "Because Elsa Kjarensen is the heir to the Crocus Throne."

A stunned silence blanketed the room.

Kristoff felt his jaw drop. Elsa was the heir? How could that be? He knew the Castle had been searching for an heir ever since King Haldor fell ill, but Elsa's name had _never_ come up, either in the press or the backchannel gossip that circulated through the different royal agencies. He looked at Anna, who bit her lip and gave him a little nod.

Sinclair just stared at Agdar, fighting to keep her composure. "That's…unbelievable."

"Unbelievable, perhaps, but true," Gunnarsen said.

"And that's why you're here?" Sinclair asked. Gunnarsen nodded. Sinclair shook her head. "How long has this been known? The last I heard, the Castle was still searching for an heir. If Kjarensen's the heir, why hasn't there been an announcement? Why would they let us start an investigation that involved her, one that put her life in danger?!"

"We only recently discovered this," Agdar said. "Aside from a few individuals, the Castle doesn't know yet."

Kristoff found his voice. "Then how do _you_ know that she's the heir? _Why_ would you know that, if it's so classified that only a few people in the Castle know? I've heard that you have connections, but - "

"I know because I'm the one who discovered who she is," Agdar said flatly.

"How?" Kristoff demanded, his voice rising. "Why are you involved in this at all? How do we know it's even true? You could be using this as a smokescreen to cover up everything else - "

"Stop!" Anna yelled, her fist slamming down on the table and making everyone jump. She leaped to her feet, glowering at Kristoff. "It's true! You think hard about what you witnessed when Elsa was shot and tell me again that you don't believe us!"

Everyone stared at her, but she kept her eyes locked on Kristoff's.

The ice, Kristoff realized. _She's talking about the ice that came out of Elsa's hands. So I didn't just imagine it!_ Other things started to click – the cold that radiated from Elsa, the ice he thought he'd seen beneath her feet.

How was it possible for a person to do that? And how did it prove that Elsa was the heir?

 _There is strange magic here_. Grandpabbie's voice echoed in his head.

Kristoff's jaw dropped again as comprehension dawned. "But…but those are just legends…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Anna said. She sank back into her chair, a corner of her mouth quirking up in a weary half-smile.

" _What_ are you talking about?" Sinclair demanded.

"That doesn't matter right now," Agdar cut in. "I have proof, on paper, of Elsa Kjarensen's lineage. You've seen it, haven't you, Markus? The copy of my notebook?"

Gunnarsen nodded. "Idunn."

Sinclair let out a long exhale. "So Kjarensen is the heir. Is that related to the reason that she came to us in the first place?"

"Yes and no," Agdar said. "Elsa herself didn't know until yesterday, when I told her. The people who are trying to kill her don't know that either. They put out a hit on her – and your agent – because they wanted to stop your corruption investigation."

"Who are _they_ , and why would they want to stop the investigation?" Sinclair asked skeptically. "It seems to me that _you_ would have the most to gain from Kjarensen's death in that regard."

" _They_ are Eckbert Weselton and his associates, and they are trying to play kingmaker. They want to use bribery and blackmail to control who sits on the Crocus Throne."

Another silence fell over the room.

Kristoff let out a low whistle. "Weselton? As in the CEO of Northern International?"

"Yes."

Sinclair's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Finally she cleared her throat. "That's a hell of an accusation, Erikksen. Eckbert Weselton is one of the most powerful men in the country. Do you have proof?"

"I have proof that they ordered your agent killed, along with Elsa. As for the rest of it…well, you let me do this my way, and I'll get your proof."

Sinclair shook her head. "Give me what you have and we'll take it from there."

"No," Agdar said firmly.

"What do you mean, 'no'?!" Sinclair flared. "We're the National Police, Erikksen, we do this for a living! If you want any sort of deal - "

"Lieutenant Sinclair," Gunnarsen interrupted. "We need to do this Agdar's way."

She sighed and looked at Kristoff. "Do we have anything on the men at Kjarensen's house yet?"

He shook his head. "I checked in just before we got here. VCID and Fucked both have teams on-scene, but it's too early to have that info yet. Everything's on the down-low, though. The locals have been told nothing. We're controlling the information flow, so there won't be anything on the news about the house, or about Elsa being alive and in this hospital."

Sinclair nodded. "Good work." She reached for her briefcase, took two objects out of it and slid them across the table.

Kristoff just looked at his sidearm and creds for a moment before sliding the pistol into his waistband and clipping the creds to his belt. He could hardly believe how complete he now felt.

"I'm sorry, Kristoff," Sinclair said. "This never should have happened. I should have trusted you and I didn't. Maybe I've been out of the field too long. I listened to Chifu instead of trusting my instincts."

Kristoff gave her a terse nod. "Let's move on. We have a lot to do."

"Lieutenant Sinclair, I suspect you will never ID those men at the house," Agdar said. "And even if you do, you'll find no links back to Weselton or any of his associates."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know how these people operate." He leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table. "We will likely have one chance, and one chance only. Who knows how many agencies they've infiltrated? They have already infiltrated the National Police. Haugland may not be the only mole - "

"'Traitor' is a better word," Gunnarsen growled.

"- in fact, it is very likely that there are others," Agdar finished.

"I seriously doubt that - " Sinclair began hotly.

Agdar raised his voice for the first time. "Can you guarantee that? Can you?"

Sinclair looked troubled. She glanced at Kristoff. He shook his head.

"If they could turn Kai, they could turn anybody," he said. _Kai…I still can't believe it_.

"So we do it my way," Agdar said.

Sinclair sat back in her chair, an uneasy frown flitting across her face. She looked at Kristoff again and raised an eyebrow. Kristoff's mind raced. What other choice did they have? They couldn't ignore the chance to bring in Persie's killers. Without Elsa, they had no case and no leverage against Erikksen. And if it was true that Elsa was the heir, the situation was about to get a lot more complicated.

 _This is way above my pay grade._

But still.

"I think we have to go with Erikksen," he said. "He's been pretty resourceful so far."

Sinclair ran a hand over her face. "You really think you can nail these people?"

"I'm prepared to die trying," Agdar said. "But I need to get started now. I need to work the phones, call in some favors. And," – he turned to Anna – "I need your help, Anna. If you're willing."

Anna straightened up, and Kristoff saw some life in her face for the first time since they'd sped away from Elsa's house. Her jaw tightened, and her sea-blue eyes took on a flinty hardness that stood in stark contrast to the freckled youthfulness of her features.

"Just tell me what you need me to do," she said.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Well, we're definitely on the downhill side of things now, though we still have a little bit to go. Thanks for sticking with me for so long!_


	41. Chapter 41

_Usual disclaimers apply_

* * *

A black town car rolled through the gate into the cobblestone front drive of the elegant old house. Bounded by a brick wall, the house and its grounds occupied almost half a block of land in Arendelle City's upscale High Market neighborhood, less than a mile from Arendelle Castle. High Market had been the favored area of the city's rich and entitled for the past two centuries, and the house's current occupant had never considered living anywhere else.

Eckbert Weselton, dressed in a dinner jacket and bowtie, stepped out onto the house's white-columned porch and locked the door behind him. His driver opened the back door of the sedan for him, and once he was settled, got behind the wheel and pulled away.

Neither Weselton nor his driver took any notice of the telephone company van parked halfway down the block as they passed the phone-line control box that served the neighborhood. The five-foot box was an ugly, metallic-gray eyesore in the midst of the beautiful old homes. It had been the source of so many complaints from the wealthy residents that the phone company had planted several ornamental shrubs around the box to conceal it. One of the shrubs was hardy rose bush with spectacular fuchsia blooms, but at the moment, its beauty was lost on the person standing next to the box, examining its heavy-duty padlock. She appreciated only the fact that the bush hid her as well as the box.

Anna's eyes narrowed beneath the bill of her green Arendelle Telephone and Telegraph cap as she watched the car roll past. Her hand twitched toward the .45 she had concealed in one of the cargo pockets of her AT&T technician's coveralls. She wanted nothing more than to shoot out the tires of the car, drag Weselton from it by his scrawny neck, and beat the living shit out of him.

Instead, she pushed back her fury and tugged the cap lower over her brow. Turning back to the control box, she pulled her pick tools from her pocket. Seconds later, the open lock dangled from the latch.

"All right, all right, I admit it, you're pretty damn fast with the tools," Eugene said from behind her.

"Pick guns are for amateurs." Anna threw a smirk over her shoulder at his affronted snort, then started picking through the box's electronic innards. She pulled a face as she studied the tangle of untagged cables running through the control box.

 _Would it have killed AT &T to label their shit? _

She finally located the punch panel that serviced Weselton's section of the neighborhood. Using a specialized handset, she began testing the lines running through the panel, dialing the company's automatic number announcement circuit for each one. She would do this for every line until she found the ones for Weselton's home. He had two – one for his office phone and one for his main household phone.

Anna was interested in his main line, because it was the one that Weselton's security system used.

"You know, Squirt, if you'd had this skill years ago, it would've saved you a boatload of trouble," Eugene said. Like Anna, he was wearing green Arendelle Telephone and Telegraph coveralls and cap. His primary job was watch Anna's back while she worked, but he had also procured the uniforms, and decaled a van with the AT&T logo so that they had a getaway vehicle. He had even ginned up a clipboard full of legitimate-looking telecom work orders for the area in case any of the residents got suspicious.

His unspoken responsibility was to make sure Anna didn't lose her shit and attack their target in a fit of rage.

"If I'd had this skill years ago, I wouldn't actually _have_ this skill," Anna replied.

"Huh?"

"If I'd had this skill years ago, I wouldn't have gotten my second stint in juvie," Anna explained as she methodically moved her handset from line to line. "It was the two previous juvie stints that made Old Judge Haller mad enough to send me to the Army after my joyride. If I hadn't gone to the Army, I wouldn't have learned all this." She let out a mirthless chuckle. "It took the government to turn me into an actual _proficient_ criminal."

Eugene chuckled. "Yeah, breaking and entering with the blessing of the National Police is something I never thought I'd see."

Anna forced a chuckle of her own and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn't done this kind of thing since she first hung out her PI shingle, when she was trying to build her business and had accepted a number of dubious clients. It was a serious gray area legally, and while the NPs had tacitly agreed to look the other way, Anna wasn't sure that she trusted them to have her back. If this operation went south, she was sure that Lieutenant Sinclair wouldn't hesitate to throw her to the wolves.

She could only hope that Agdar and Gunnarsen would cover her. Like hers, their top priority was Elsa's safety. And then her eventual ascension to the Crocus Throne. The legal niceties did not matter to them.

Anna shook her head. A couple a weeks ago, she had had a stable, if not necessarily thriving, business with a legitimate clientele. Now, since becoming involved with the supposedly righteous forces of government and law, she found herself crawling through a legal and moral quagmire, and hoping desperately that the muck wouldn't stick to her. It bothered her more than she cared to admit.

But she would do it for Elsa.

She would do anything for Elsa. And given the murderous impulses that flooded her whenever she thought about Hans and Weselton, she admitted to herself that _anything_ might even include killing.

 _I would. I would kill for her. I would_ die _for her._

 _You had your chance to die for her,_ another part of her brain snarked, _but you were too slow_.

Why did it always seem that she was doing the wrong things for the right reasons?

 _Because the one time you did the right thing, it was for the wrong reason, and Elsa almost died because of your selfishness. She could still die…_

Anna pushed her troubling thoughts aside as she identified the two lines that she was searching for. Weselton had an expensive, high-quality security system. But it was an older system, and it looked like it hadn't been upgraded since its original installation. So despite its expense, it had a giant Achilles' Heel: the phone line. Anna was getting ready to open the alarm system's back door.

She mentally talked herself through the alarm's operational steps as she placed an inline phone simulator on Weselton's circuit. If someone broke in, the alarm would go off and the computer would call the alarm company monitoring station. Then the security person at the monitoring station would call the house to see if everything was okay. If the owner answered, he had to give his code or the police would be sent. If no one answered, the police would be sent automatically.

Weselton's system also had a cellular backup. If the landline phone service was cut off, the alarm's computer would automatically switch to using cell communication. But Anna's simulator would fool the computer into thinking that the landline was still operational. She flipped the simulator's switch and dropped Weselton's house from the phone grid. The house line had a dial tone, but now any calls made over it – including the alarm system's calls to the monitoring station - would go absolutely nowhere.

"I'm done here. Let's go," Anna said.

She packed up her tools, then she and Eugene made their way to the back of Weselton's house. They had been scouting out Weselton's home, as well as his office complex, for the better part of a week, taking photos, learning his routine, and checking out his security situation. Eugene had unleashed his smolder on Weselton's administrative assistant, and at the cost of a few cups of coffee, had learned from her that the Weasel would be out of his house this evening for some sort of political dinner.

More than enough time for Anna to work her magic inside his house.

The back of the house was shielded from its neighbors by a number of tall evergreens. They climbed the wall right next to the detached garage, outside the lens angle of the security cameras covering the back of the house. There was a small apartment over the garage where Weselton's driver/manservant/bodyguard lived, but since he was out with his boss, they weren't worried about being spotted from there.

Anna reached into her pocket and pulled out a copy of Weselton's floor plan and alarm layout, provided to her by Colonel Markus Gunnarsen. Squinting in the fading daylight, she studied the paper for a minute and then pointed to a casement window on the first floor, near the corner of the house.

"That one," she said. "According to the alarm layout, if we go through there, we can get to the master panel without passing any motion detectors."

"Did it take you this long to get into Hans' place?" Eugene asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Hans is an arrogant asshole who never bothered to change his alarm access code, even after he found out I was involved in all this."

It was true. Hans had never changed his code. Anna had simply walked up to his front door, picked the lock, and disarmed his security system. Familiar with his home, she had completed her tasks in record time and gotten out before she could give in to the urge to destroy everything in the place.

Anna peered through the window into a laundry room. Stacks of folded linen sat on a long table, and white dress shirts hung above an ironing board. Weselton had a housekeeper, but she was already gone for the day. _And I just bet…_ She reached for the window's handle. Sure enough, the window wasn't locked – the handle turned easily. Anna let up on it carefully, making sure not to actually open the window yet. She pulled a taser from her backpack and studied the window for the most likely locations of the wire contact points for the alarm system.

"Still, this is a pain," Eugene was saying. "Why couldn't you use your scanner thing to grab the access code for this place?"

"Because - " Anna put the taser against the window frame and pulled the trigger, fusing the circuit and disabling the contact – "I haven't been able to detect it. Either I haven't been close enough…" she moved the taser and pulled the trigger again, "…or whoever installed it understands Van Eck radiation."

"Van-what radiation? You know what, never mind, let's just get this done."

Anna hit the window frame with the taser eight times, then held her breath and turned the handle to pull it open. No alarm. She scrambled through the window, leaving Eugene outside to keep watch. Taking out a thin flashlight, she checked the alarm layout again to verify the locations of the motion sensors. She skirted down a narrow hallway to what appeared to be a servant's staircase, then made her way upstairs.

She located the master alarm panel just inside the door of the master bedroom. Removing the panel's cover, she found the wires leading to the sound cannon and disconnected them, giving the security system a sudden case of laryngitis. _Enjoy your silent treatment._ She was now free to roam the house.

Weselton, she observed, lived a life of considerable luxury. The house – mansion, really – was the biggest in a neighborhood full of lavish homes. His furnishings were all expensive antiques, and his art collection was even more extensive than Elsa's. Her feet practically sank into the thick carpet covering the upstairs floor.

Why was this man so greedy? Wasn't all this enough for him? He had more wealth and power than just about anyone in Arendelle, yet instead of using it to help others, he just wanted to use it to accumulate even more wealth and power, to the extent that he sought to control the entire country by extortion and murder.

She couldn't help but compare him to Agdar and Elsa, both of whom used their wealth in the service of their country and their people, rather than themselves. They may have worked outside the law as much as Weselton, but they were driven by compassion and patriotism, not by avarice.

 _He has the means to do so much good, but he'll spend ten thousand kroners on a plate of rubbery lutefisk for a politician before he'll drop a skilling to help someone in need._

Anna had never hated anyone in her life until now.

It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed, but she clung to it anyway, because it kept her worries about Elsa from dragging her down into despair. She hadn't even seen Elsa since that fateful day, since the doctors had swept her off the helicopter and into emergency surgery. She remained in the ICU, under twenty-four-hour guard. Even Agdar had seen her only once, and that was through the ICU's observation window. Elsa was still in serious condition, he'd told Anna, and had not yet regained consciousness.

Anna's throat constricted, and she ground the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to shut out the images of the blood, of the doctors hovering over Elsa, of Elsa's body jerking under the defibrillator.

 _I can't afford to break down now._

She swiped her hand across her cheeks, then went downstairs and jumped up and down in front of the motion sensor in the foyer. The red light blinked on, but the system could no longer blare its strident warning or call the monitoring station for help. She made faces at the sensor, even gave it the finger, pretending that Weselton was watching her. The alarm stayed silent.

As she watched, the red light went out. When she tripped the motion sensor, the alarm system dialed out a set number of times, and when it got no answer, it went back to sleep. At the monitoring station, everything would seem normal. The phone would never ring.

 _This is like a burglar's wet dream._

Anna grinned to herself. She would reattach the sound wires when she finished, because Weselton would be suspicious if his system didn't beep when he opened the door. In the meantime, though, she had work to do.

* * *

Eckbert Weselton sighed with relief as he finally escaped through the lobby of the Arendelle Royale. As he got older, he found that he had less and less patience with the tedium of these fund-raising dinners. The food was terrible, the conversation boring, and the bootlicking ostentatious and disgusting.

 _Whatever happened to subtlety?_

Most of his amusement for the evening had come from watching Hans work the room – the young man projected a wide-eyed, boyish charm that captivated people, and yet was completely at odds with his true nature. He idly wondered if Hans had gone home to his current paramour tonight, or if he had ended up leaving with one of the several women that had slipped him their hotel key cards.

Weselton thumped fist against his chest as he waited for Gustaf to bring his car around. The food tonight had been particularly bad – the councilor hosting the dinner hailed from one of the traditional reindeer-herding provinces, so the main course had been a braised venison flank steak. He rubbed his jaw; two bites in and it had ached from the exercise. The steak was drier than the withered hairs in the councilor's comb-over.

 _I should give him my wigmaker's card. That comb-over is atrocious._

Even the toadying of the politicians, which he'd once enjoyed, had begun to wear on his nerves. He'd spent most of the evening sitting at a long table, trying to feign interest in the nattering of the councilor's staffers, nodding in all the right places as they extolled all the Great Things that their man would do if Mister Weselton could see his way clear to supporting his campaign financially.

Weselton snorted as Gustaf eased the car to the curb and got out to open the rear door for him. Oh, he would support the councilor, but only minimally – he was one of Agdar Erikksen's 'beneficiaries' and could thus be controlled by blackmail rather than money, especially now that Agdar would no longer be the one pulling the strings.

He felt a grudging admiration for Agdar – he doubted he could have dreamed up such an elaborate scheme himself. In fact, he was seriously considering incorporating Agdar's 'retirement plan' into his own dealings with the councilors. A carrot that he could dangle alongside the stick that was the threat of exposure. The difference would be that Weselton would never actually hold up his end of the bargain.

Agdar's oddly misplaced sense of honor was his most glaring weakness.

Weselton leaned back against his car's leather seats and pondered the last phone call they had received from Kai Haugland. Losing the three skilled men had been a shock. The loss of Fritz had hit especially hard – the Schlager brothers had been in his service for almost twenty years. That Fritz had been killed was almost beyond his comprehension. They had people in Gjoheim right now trying to ascertain what had happened.

Neither he nor Hans had heard anything further from Haugland. Had the man run? They didn't know. But at least Erikksen and Kjarensen were dead, along with the other NP agent, Bjorgman.

Or at he was fairly certain they were dead. He found it puzzling that there had been no news reports about six bodies at a mountain house in a wealthy area of Gjoheim Kantoner. It had been a week, and not a single report, not even a rumor. That could be the doing of the National Police, trying to cover up something that could quickly become a public relations nightmare. Yes, that was probably it. But without Haugland, they had no way of knowing for sure.

Haugland needed to be replaced as soon as possible. It would take some time to cultivate a new mole, but Hans had assured him that there were several promising fish nipping at the bait they had dangled.

Nevertheless, he was confident that the trail would never lead back to him. The three men were buried so deep that the authorities would never discover who they truly were. Even Fritz Schlager - Weselton himself didn't know for sure if that was the man's birth name or not.

But there was one troubling loose end: Anna Aarndahl. Haugland had reported that the woman left on her motorcycle before the men descended on Kjarensen's mountain house. Presumably she had been headed back to Arendelle City to ensure the safety of the boy that Hans had threatened. But she had not shown for the midnight meeting with Hans, not that they had really expected her to. Nor had she returned to her apartment house. So where was she?

The car pulled into his driveway, and Gustaf scurried around to open the door for him. Weselton undid his bowtie as he unlocked the front door and disarmed his security system. He went straight to his study, where he poured a snifter of cognac and gazed out the French windows overlooking his garden, still considering the problem of Anna Aarndahl. He would give Hans personal responsibility for tracking her down, he decided. After all, Hans had boasted about his ability to manipulate the woman. She was the last link that could chain them to this whole situation.

The squeak of hinges made him spin away from the window, and he sloshed his drink as his heart leapt into his throat. A woman dressed all in black stood against the wall by his study door, pushing it closed. She must have been hiding behind it when he came in. As he watched, she shut the door and turned the lock. He opened his mouth to call out to Gustaf, but the woman shook her head, raising a huge pistol and pointing it directly at him. She put a finger to her lips and gave him a slight smile.

He couldn't help but notice that the smile never reached her eyes.


	42. Chapter 42

_Disclaimer: I still don't own Frozen_

* * *

Weselton shuddered as he stared at the woman. Her sea-blue eyes glittered with barely-restrained fury. The pistol she held seemed to dwarf her hand, but it never wavered as she lined it up on him.

There was a tap at the door, and he heard Gustaf's voice from the other side of it: "Mr. Weselton, do you require anything else this evening?"

Any thoughts that Weselton had about shouting to Gustaf to call the police evaporated when the woman cocked her pistol. She _wanted_ to shoot him; he could see it in her expression. He felt a sudden need to void his bladder.

"N-no," he replied, struggling to contain the quaver in his voice. "You may retire for the night."

Gustaf's footsteps tapped down the hall, fading away as he got further from the door. Weselton swallowed hard and studied the woman who had invaded his house. Freckle-faced, with red hair done in twin braids, she was even younger than he'd initially thought, in her late teens or early twenties. Quite attractive, or she would be if not for the intense loathing that was written all over her face.

 _Anna Aarndahl_ , he realized with a frisson of fear. _It has to be_.

The French windows swung open and Weselton nearly fainted as Agdar Erikksen stepped through them. _How is this possible?_ _Haugland said he was dead!_ For a brief irrational moment, he was sure that Erikksen had returned from the grave to torment him.

Agdar locked the windows behind him, then turned and gazed at Weselton, his face the picture of cool composure. Yet a manic energy seemed to dance behind the man's eyes as they bored into his, and Weselton could not suppress a shiver.

"Wh-what are you doing in my house?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

Agdar's mouth quirked in a little half-smile. "Is that all you have to say? I'm a little disappointed in you, Eckbert," he said. "I mean, really, how often do you actually get to see a ghost?"

Aarndahl took a few steps toward him, gesturing with her pistol. "Sit down," she ordered.

Weselton eyed the gun warily, then sat down in his leather club chair, trying to collect himself. Breathing seemed increasingly difficult; unbuttoning the collar of his shirt provided little relief.

"I thought we had a deal, Eckbert," Agdar said. "You leave us alone, and we don't expose your scheme. But you sent your killers after us anyway. Why? People died unnecessarily."

Weselton's throat bobbed. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to assess the situation. Pushing aside the shocking fact that Agdar was still alive, he tried to figure out why the man was in his house, asking him these questions. Were he and Aarndahl working with the National Police? Were they wearing wires?

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he said. His voice steadied as some of his confidence returned. "I don't even know who you are!"

 _If they_ are _wired, they'll get nothing for their troubles._

Agdar shot a glance at Aarndahl. "We…we're the only survivors of your raid on Elsa's house. We want to work something out. Some sort of arrangement that will keep us from looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

 _They want to negotiate?_ Perhaps he could get the upper hand here. "I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to, Mister…?" Agdar just raised an eyebrow at him. "The only arrangement that seems acceptable to me is for you to get out of my house before I shout for my man to call the police!"

Agdar gave him a tolerant smile. "That recording Haugland told you was destroyed?" He slid hand into his coat and pulled out a small data card. "Well, he didn't get that quite right."

Weselton just stared at the data card to a long moment. Was it a backup of his original? Agdar wasn't stupid; making a copy was the sensible thing to do. But why bring it here? Willing his hand not to shake, he raised the snifter. Several soothing sips later, he eyed Agdar intently. The man had to be bluffing. If he really had the recording, he and Aarndahl wouldn't be here, the NPs would.

"Since I have no idea what you're talking about, why don't you show me what's on the card?" he asked. "Will it explain why two complete strangers have broken into my home and threatened me with a gun?"

Aarndahl's eyes widened a bit, and Agdar swallowed.

 _He's definitely bluffing_. Weselton hid a smile behind his snifter. "Come now, it's not nice to tease."

Agdar put the card on a side table. "We'll get to that in a moment. For right now, we want to know what you're going to do for us. And you _are_ going to do something for us. Something worth enough to keep us from going to the National Police and telling them everything that we know."

"And what exactly is it that you know?" Weselton let disdain drip from his voice. "You said something about people dying. Are you suggesting that I've killed people? I resent that. I assume you know who I am. Are you trying to extort money from me? Is this some sort of misguided blackmail scheme? The problem with that is that you have to have something to blackmail me with."

"We have enough to _destroy_ you," Aarndahl hissed.

 _Then why haven't you used it already, you foolish girl?_ Weselton could hardly keep from laughing out loud. "Then I suggest you start swinging your wrecking ball, Miss…?"

The woman just glared at him.

"Elsa is dead, Eckbert," Agdar said. When he said this, a pathetic sound escaped from Aarndahl, and she put a hand over her eyes. Weselton smothered a grin of triumph.

"She almost made it," Agdar continued, his voice unsteady, "but we couldn't get her to the hospital in time. It was Haugland. He killed her. He also killed your men. Payback for you killing that NP agent. That was personal. It made him quite angry."

Another quiver ran through Weselton. He didn't know if Haugland was dead or alive. If he was still alive, was he angry enough to come seeking revenge on him personally? They would need to track him down, and quickly. He pushed that concern aside for the moment, and schooled his face into a suitably bewildered expression.

"Elsa? Haugland? Who are those people? What on earth are you talking about?" He stared at Agdar, feigning recognition. "You know, you do look familiar. Have you been on TV?"

Suddenly Aarndahl was in front of him, red-faced and panting. "You sick fuck! This is all a game to you, isn't it? You kill people like you're stepping on bugs!"

Weselton cowered back, whimpering. Agdar was next to Aarndahl in an instant, his hand on her arm. "Anna…"

Aarndahl shook him off. Weselton's whimper became a pitiful moan when the muzzle of her pistol pressed into the tender skin on the underside of his jaw. A wet warmth spread across his lap, and he burned with embarrassment as he realized that his bladder had let go.

Aarndahl's eyes flicked down and a smirk flitted across her face before anger settled over it again. She dug the pistol roughly into his jaw. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your head off right now."

Agdar grabbed her arm again. "Anna, don't. He's not worth it."

"Listen to your friend!" Weselton pleaded. "He's right! Please!"

Aarndahl just stared at him for a minute, a look of supreme contempt on her face. The pistol's muzzle pushed hard against his jaw one last time, and then it was gone. Aarndahl stepped back and slowly lowered the gun.

"You're right, he's not worth it," she said. "I guess we'll just have to go to the National Police with what we have."

Weselton sagged with relief. "Yes, yes, go to the National Police with whatever you think you have on me. All I want is for you to leave my house."

"And all I want," Agdar said softly, "is your word that no one else will be killed. You have what you want, Eckbert. You don't need to hurt anybody else."

"Right, right, whatever you say." Weselton barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes; no need to antagonize Aarndahl any further. "Just please leave my house, and I'll give up my murderous ways."

"This isn't a joke, you asshole!" Aarndahl started to raise her gun again, but Agdar's hand on her arm stopped her.

"No, it isn't," Weselton said. Now that the immediate danger had passed, anger began to displace his fear. He shifted uncomfortably; the wet stain on his pants was already getting cold, and his humiliation further fueled his resentment. "I hope you get the help you so obviously need, young lady."

 _That will sound good on the recording. It will seem that I am actually concerned for her well-being._

"Fuck you," Aarndahl spat over her shoulder as she stalked toward the window.

Agdar picked up the data card and slid it into his pocket.

"Not leaving the evidence of my horrific crimes?" Weselton asked dryly. He shuddered a bit at the icy glare that Agdar gave him. _He looks like he wants to kill me as much as Aarndahl does._

Agdar and Aarndahl stepped through the French windows. Weselton hurried to the window and watched them disappear through his garden. He closed and locked the windows, then raced to his desk and picked up the phone. He was halfway through dialing a number when he froze.

 _Have they tapped my phone? This may be exactly what they want me to do._

He placed the handset back in the cradle, then opened his desk and took out his secure phone. It had some kind of fancy encryption, and every other security feature known to mankind, or so he'd been told. He had only used it a few times, and his technology person had assured him that it could not be tapped or traced. He snorted as he punched in a number.

 _So much for electronic eavesdropping._

"Erikksen and Anna Aarndahl were in my home!" he barked into the phone. "Yes! In my study, dammit! They just left. I want every available man looking for them. They can't have gotten very far!"

Weselton clicked off and leaned against his desk, shaking but exhilarated. Agdar must have been desperate, coming here like that. A desperate act from a desperate man. Not only that, but dragging along a _female_ who was barely more than a child. Did Agdar really think he could bluff a man such as himself? It was insulting. But he had won in the end. By tomorrow, or soon thereafter, Agdar and Aarndahl would be dead, and he would still be alive and triumphant.

He plucked at his trousers. The cold damp spot on the front of them served as a reminder of his brush with death. _I was brave_ , he told himself as he felt an odd elation, _cool under pressure. Is survival always this intoxicating?_

* * *

In the small apartment above Weselton's detached garage, Anna peeked through the curtains of the window overlooking the back driveway. "He didn't waste any time calling out his goon squad," she observed, watching as Weselton's driver/bodyguard/manservant talked to the collection of beef that had gathered at the house only minutes after she and Agdar left.

 _How does he find these people? Does he have a direct line to Thugs R Us?_

They had slipped into the garage apartment as soon as Weselton's man had come out of it, Agdar having correctly deduced that it did not have an alarm system. It was, after all, just a servant's home – it held nothing of value, as far as the Weasel was concerned.

"I expected no less, especially after you humiliated him like that," Agdar said.

Anna snorted. "Yeah, he was pretty pissed. Literally."

"It may make him more dangerous. Despite his wealth and success, he's still a small, insecure, and petty man who never lets go of a grudge."

Anna gave a little shrug as she watched the men in the driveway. "If this works, wetting his pants will be the least of his worries."

Agdar peered over her shoulder in time to see the goons disperse, headed off in different directions, presumably to search for the two of them. Weselton's man disappeared into the main house. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me text our ride." Anna tapped out a quick message on her phone, then she and Agdar slipped out of the apartment as quickly and quietly as they came in.

They crept through the shadows and climbed the wall. Agdar stumbled for a couple of steps when he landed on the other side, and Anna reached out to steady him.

"I think I might be getting a little long in the tooth for this kind of thing," he said with a wry smile.

"Nah, you're just out of practice," Anna replied with a grin. Agdar looked good for his age, she thought. He was still trim and handsome, with a full head of strawberry-blond hair that had just a bit of gray around the temples. Distinguished-looking. She fleetingly wondered why he'd never gotten married.

He gave her a wink. "You're too kind to an old man."

They made their way to the street a few houses down from Weselton's. A sleek silver sedan pulled up to the curb, and they climbed into the back seat. Eugene flashed them a quick grin from behind the wheel before speeding away.

"Everything in place?" he asked.

"Yes." Anna took out her phone and checked the feed from the surveillance equipment she'd installed in the Weasel's house. Just like Persie Norberg's house, the smoke detectors in Weselton's home now had covert cameras and mics that provided crisp, clear video and audio of everything within their range and transmitted it via power line communication. Anna swiped between camera views, screwing up her face in disgust when she pulled up the one for the Weasel's bedroom just in time to see the old man taking off his trousers.

 _Ewwwww! I did not need to see that._

Agdar leaned over to look as she swiped back to the camera in the study. Weselton came into the room, now wearing his pajamas and robe. He picked up a cell phone and made a call. Anna felt a rush a grim satisfaction as she listened to him. The Weasel was doing exactly what Agdar had predicted.

* * *

Hans lounged in his own study with a glass of wine, his tie loose and collar unbuttoned, having just returned home from the fund-raising dinner at the Arendelle Royale. It had been a very productive evening for him – he'd made a number of new contacts among the dinner's attendees. Influential contacts who could be powerful allies if handled correctly.

He'd also listened intently to all the conversations going on around him, making mental notes of particularly interesting rumors – whose business was struggling, complaints about taxes and regulations, and what the executives and bureaucrats expected from the councilor if they supported his reelection campaign. Every intriguing tidbit was filed away for possible use and leverage in the future.

 _Knowledge is power, after all._

During the actual dinner, he'd found himself seated between a city alderman and his wife. The alderman's most notable assets were his amiable personality and his decades-younger wife. The alderman was the single most likeable man Hans had ever met, which was why he had initially tried to ignore the wife's warm thigh when it pressed against his own under the table. He had shifted away several times, but she pursued, keeping her leg against his while she smiled and talked to the people around her. Any lingering doubts he'd had about the innocence of her actions were swept away when he felt her fingers crawling up the inside of his thigh.

"Thank God," she'd whispered when her fingers stroked over his erection. "I was beginning to think that I'd lost my appeal. Or that you were gay."

Their rough coupling in a stall in the ladies' room had been hasty, but satisfying. She had sent him her number afterwards, hinting that she had a very flexible work schedule. He almost felt sorry for the alderman.

Almost.

Several other women had slipped him their hotel key cards during the evening. He could only imagine what women would be available to him when he became King. Hans smiled at the thought as he sipped his wine and pondered his current relationship. It might be time to start seriously thinking about whether or not Margareta had a place in his future. She was beautiful, intelligent, and well-educated, but lacked any real pedigree. The Westergards were descended from nobility. He would need a wife of proper breeding to ensure that he had heirs.

 _Just not thirteen of them. I have no intention of spending a lifetime watching my back, like my father does._

His future seemed assured, though. Elsa Kjarensen and Agdar Erikksen were dead. That would end both the National Police's corruption investigation, and whatever unofficial business Erikksen was conducting in the Castle. Erikksen had to have been searching for an heir as well. That was the only conclusion Hans could come to after Margareta had told him about the journal.

The real question was, had he found one?

And why would Erikksen be looking for an heir? He wasn't part of the government, and had not been engaged to conduct an official search. He was a childhood friend of Idunn Fjelstad, the Chief of the Royal Archives, but other than providing access to the journal, she didn't appear to be involved in whatever he was doing.

Well, it mattered little now. Even if Erikksen had found a potential heir, that information had gone to the grave with him.

The muffled trill of a phone pulled him from his thoughts. He scowled as he took the secure mobile phone from his jacket pocket and saw who was calling.

 _What does he want now?_

"Westergard," he answered, trying not to let his irritation bleed into his voice. At Weselton's first words, he jolted up straight, nearly spilling his wine. "Wait, what? That can't be right. Haugland said he was dead."

Weselton's nasally voice sounded even more screechy than usual through the secure connection. "He looked perfectly healthy to me! Either that, or I just had a ghost invade my home!"

The gears turned in Hans' head. If Erickksen was alive, then what had happened to the others? Was Haugland still alive? Had he double-crossed them? No, they had too much on him. Either he'd been mistaken, or he was dead. The man had reported that Anna gotten away. Had she come back, interfered in some way? He would have to lean harder on their people in Gjoheim to find out exactly what had happened.

He took a deep breath. "All right, calm down. So Erikksen and Anna survived somehow. What did they want?"

"Erikksen waved around a data card and did a song-and-dance about the recording he made of us admitting that we had the NP agent killed."

Hans' blood ran cold. Had Erikksen made copies of his recording? _Of course he did, he's not stupid_. "But why would he threaten us with it instead of going straight to the police?" _Unless_ … "Did he play it for you?"

Weselton snorted. "Of course not. He was bluffing. But I saw through all that. I thought they might be wearing wires, so I pretended I didn't know who they were or what they were talking about. It almost cost me my life!"

"What are you talking about?"

"That stupid girl, Aarndahl. She's dangerous. She nearly killed me!"

Hans scoffed. _Coward_.

"It's true!" Weselton insisted. "She lost her temper when I pretended not to recognize them, and she was about two seconds from blowing my head off!"

 _Oh, for God's sake_. Hans rolled his eyes. _Anna was probably waving her gun around and almost shot him in the foot or something._ "Well, yes, she can be a bit crazy," he soothed.

"Nonetheless," Weselton continued, "I don't know if they were wearing wires, or if they're working with the National Police somehow. But without the recording, they have no evidence of what we've done – nothing about the hit on the agent and Kjarensen, the bribing of the councilors, any of it."

"Did they say what they wanted?" Hans asked impatiently.

"They wanted to make an arrangement – we leave them alone, and they don't go to the National Police," Weselton replied. "Agdar was begging for us to leave them alone. We could go ahead with our plan, just let them live. It was pathetic. To think I actually thought they had come to kill me. But that Aarndahl woman is dangerous! Unstable. Oh, and Agdar said that Haugland killed Kjarensen. So she is out of the way, and that will shut down the NP investigation she was involved in."

"Haugland must be dead as well, if Erikksen and Anna are alive," Hans said. Could Anna have killed Haugland? _No, she doesn't have it in her_. "We have to find them. No mistakes this time – they have to die."

"Agreed. And then it's time to execute the plan. And to do that, we need the name, Hans. You've held out long enough. Who is this man you've found? Who will be the next King of Arendelle?"

Hans hesitated; he had planned a grand announcement in front of the group, and simply telling the Weasel over the phone seemed…anticlimactic. Then again, this might be better. The Weasel hated surprises, and if he was settled with the idea beforehand, then he would guide, cajole, and even threaten the rest, and eventually they would go along.

"The next ruler of Arendelle will be King Hans Frederick Christian Josef, House of Westergard."

There was a long silence, and then Weselton's gravelly chuckle came through the handset. "Hans, it seems you never cease to amaze me. Then again, I expected no less from you."

Hans grinned. If the Weasel was this quick to accept the idea, then the others would pose no problems. And if they did, well, it was too late anyway. Hans and Weselton would present them with a _fait accompli_ , and they would either go along or face the consequences. They had relied on Weselton to provide them with a politically acceptable heir, and it was too late for them to turn elsewhere. They couldn't publically protest without giving away their own parts in the plot, and any private lack of support would be disastrous for them once Hans was crowned.

The news seemed to have swept aside whatever lingering jitters the old man had from his surprise guests. Now he was uncharacteristically ebullient, almost as if Hans were his own son. "Now, my boy," he said, "tell me exactly how we prove your claim."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** A bit of a delay this time - vacation, sick dad, even sicker kitty, so I'm running behind on everything. Good (bad?) news is that we're getting close to the end, so I hope everyone will stick with me! Thanks for reading!_


	43. Chapter 43

_Frozen belongs to Disney_

* * *

Anna stood in the doorway of the hearing room and looked around in dismay. Nearly every seat was taken. This morning's meeting of the Nasjonsting's Governmental Affairs committee had already been relocated once because of the larger-than-expected attendance. She and Agdar had arrived early and gone to the originally scheduled room, only to learn a few minutes ago that the hearing had been moved.

"I thought you said this was just the first committee reading?" Anna said to Agdar as they edged along the back wall of the room, looking for a place to sit. She shifted her small laptop case from one hand to the other, rubbing her palms on her black pencil skirt.

"It is." He pointed out two empty seats on the far aisle and led her toward them. "But remember, this is the first Proposal of Succession to be introduced in the Nasjonsting in almost fifty years. So I'm not surprised that there's a lot of public interest."

Anna thought that if there was any more interest, the reading would have to be moved to the Nasjonsting main chamber. She knew she shouldn't be surprised – the news had been full of stories and speculations about Hans Westergard, the latest claimant to the Crocus Throne. There had been a few previous claims, but Hans' was the first one to actually be turned into a formal succession proposal.

 _Which says a lot more about the quality of Hans' scheming than it does about the legitimacy of his bloodline_.

She looked around at the crowd again, her stomach flip-flopping at the number of press credentials and cameras that were present. At least Agdar would be the one doing the talking. The last thing she needed to do was embarrass herself before the whole country with her word vomit.

"And it's also the first one in over a hundred and fifty years that's not just a formality," Agdar was saying.

"Formality?"

They settled into their seats, and Agdar dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "Yes. When the reigning monarch has children, our Laws of Succession state that his or her children will inherit, in absolute birth order. So the Proposal of Succession is normally just a formality, a routine vote in the Nasjonsting to recognize and affirm the heir apparent."

"What if there aren't any children?"

"Then the nearest collateral line inherits." At Anna's puzzled expression, he explained, "In other words, if His Majesty had a sibling, that sibling would inherit and be followed by his or her children."

"So since King Haldor was an only child whose only child died, there's no automatically recognized heir?"

"Correct. And His Majesty's father, King Olaf, was himself an only child. The Queens of Arendelle have not been particularly fecund, and there have been some hereditary health issues. Add in a few wars and the restrictions of the _Traktat av Norge_ amendment, and we find ourselves here, on the edge of losing our sovereignty."

The door opened again and Anna clenched her fists in her lap as Hans strode confidently down the aisle, followed by a gaunt, gray-haired man with hatchet-like features. Cameras flashed, and Hans looked around at the crowd with a satisfied smile as he and the other man settled at the witness table in the front of the room. Just the sight of him sickened her, and she glared at him as though she could burn holes in the back his head with her eyes.

"With a murderer and pretender grasping at the throne," she hissed.

Agdar's eyebrows shot up at the venom in her voice. Hans was now turned around in his seat, whispering with Weselton, who sat in the spectator row directly behind him. He patted the briefcase on the table beside him and grinned before turning back around. Anna ground her teeth, and pondered again how much trouble she would get in if she just punched him in the face.

 _Whatever trouble I get in would be worth it._

A hand patted her gently on the arm. "Don't worry, Anna," Agdar whispered. "We're not letting that happen. There's no way he will ever become King."

Anna took a deep breath and nodded. This could end up being the darkest scandal in Arendelle's modern history. Corruption, lies, extortion, murder – if it had been a movie, Anna might have dismissed it as being too far-fetched. The revelations were going to shake Arendelle to its foundations.

Anna wasn't sure if she was thrilled or horrified to be involved in it.

 _In the end, it doesn't matter, as long as Elsa is safe._

The door behind the dais at the front of the room opened, and the members of the Governmental Affairs committee filed in, taking their seats at the tables on the semicircular dais. The committee chairman, Councilor Lars Brunsvold, rapped his gavel to open the session.

* * *

Hans glanced around the crowded room once more as he turned away from Weselton, elated satisfaction filling his chest. Despite his confidence, he was still a bit amazed at how well his plan had played out. Sure, there had been some bumps along the way. He'd had to lie and manipulate and maneuver, but that was all part of politics, whether it was being practiced at a village council or inside Arendelle Castle. There was blood on his hands – literally, in one case – and that was regrettable, but it couldn't be helped. After all, hadn't death, like manipulation and maneuvering, been integral to royal politics for time immemorial?

The only black mark so far was the inability to find Erikksen and Anna. While they no longer posed any real threat, that small failure lingered around him like a bad odor. Hans hated loose ends. At least Elsa Kjarensen was dead; everything they'd been able to learn pointed to her having died of her wounds at the hospital in Gjoheim.

Movement at the other end of the witness table drew his attention. A small, slim woman sat down and put her attache case on the table. Hans studied her for a moment. Dressed in an impeccable dark blue skirt and jacket, her brown hair coiled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, she looked vaguely familiar. He leaned toward the man seated next to him. "Who is that?"

Klaus Froland sniffed in disdain. "Idunn Fjelstad. The Chief of the Royal Archives."

"What is she doing here?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

Hans pulled back, suppressing a slight scowl. Froland was Weselton's man inside the Chancellor's office. Hans tolerated him because they needed someone from the Castle to introduce their Proposal of Succession to the Nasjonsting, but Froland gave him a serious case of the creeps. He wasn't sure if it was the haughty self-righteousness, or the predatory looks that he'd caught the man casting his way, but Hans always felt like he needed a shower when he left Froland's presence.

 _He has to go as soon as I become King. He can retire nicely on the graft Weselton has funneled his way for the past twenty years._

The Governmental Affairs committee entered the room. Hans stiffened his back just a bit as Brunsvold opened the meeting, projecting what he felt was the perfect mix of attentiveness and easy self-assurance. It wouldn't do to appear too eager – this was his birthright, after all, and he expected this committee to move his case forward, not to question it.

Still, there were customs and procedures that had to be maintained. This was merely the first step.

Brunsvold rapped his gavel again and said, "The business before the Committee today is a Proposal of Royal Succession, brought by Assistant Secretary Klaus Froland of the Office of the Chancellor."

Froland rose and was sworn in as murmurs swept through the room. Then he steepled his fingers in front of him. "Mr. Chairman, on behalf of His Majesty, King Haldor V, we introduce a Proposal of Succession to name Hans Frederick Christian Josef Westergard as heir to the Crocus Throne."

"Do you have the written proposal for the committee, Mr. Secretary?"

"Yes. Signed and sealed by the Chancellor, in the name of His Majesty." Froland stepped around the table and handed the chairman a leather-bound portfolio.

Hans knew that the presentation of the written proposal was just another part of the custom. All of the committee members had already received an advance copy. A copy had also been leaked to the press, along with the reminder of what would happen to Arendelle under the _Traktat av Norge_ if no heir was found.

And exactly as he had expected, several talking heads had begun whipping up panic, denouncing the "arrogance of our elected leaders" and "their critical failure to tend to our country's future." Despite the fact that historic relations between Arendelle and the Southern Isles had been lukewarm at best, more than one commentator had demanded immediate affirmation of the Proposal of Succession and the proclamation of Hans as the rightful heir.

Yes, everything was coming together perfectly.

"Mr. Westergard, are you prepared to present your claim?" Brunsvold asked.

Hans stood up and gave him a slight nod. "I am, Mr. Chairman." He raised his right hand and was sworn in.

He then launched into his presentation, a convoluted explanation of the Westergard genealogical tree and its historic ties to Arendellian royalty. Like so many other Continental nations, the Southern Isles had been rocked by popular uprisings in the mid-1800s, its monarchy deposed and replaced with a parliamentary republic. However, its royal family had escaped the violent purges that had decimated the noble classes of many other countries, and had remained in the Southern Isles as a sort of landed gentry. The Westergard personal fortune, separated from the national treasury, had been invested in several business ventures, eventually becoming the conglomerate known as SI Shipping and Trading.

The Westergard connection to Arendellian royalty was quite distant, the most recent common ancestor predating the ruling Frostahl family by over a century. Even then, it wasn't direct – the link was a Southern Isles princess whose half-sister had married an Arendelle king. But as tenuous as it was, the link _was_ there; given the undercurrent of fear gripping Arendelle right now, Hans was sure that remote connection would be enough to convince the Nasjonsting to affirm him as heir to the Crocus Throne.

And if it wasn't, well, they had enough dirt on enough councilors, including several on this very committee, to make sure that the vote went in his favor.

 _Either way, I will be the hero who saves Arendelle from disaster._

Hans wrapped up his presentation with a brief thanks. Then he gave the committee staffers portfolios with copies of the documentation supporting his claim to the throne, including genealogical charts and references to relevant birth and marriage records. The staffers distributed them to the committee members.

"An impressive presentation, Mr. Westergard," one of the committee members said, looking down at the portfolio in front of her. "However, I see that you are the youngest of thirteen sons. It seems to me that your father would have the strongest claim to the throne, and even if he chose to abrogate this responsibility, you have twelve brothers ahead of you. I assume that at least a few of those brothers have children of their own, which would put you well down the line of inheritance."

Hans took a deep breath; he'd anticipated this, and it was going to be the trickiest part of his plan. Flashing the woman his most charming smile, he said, "Madame Councilor, you are correct. I am the youngest of thirteen. However, the Westergards have been out of the business of governance for more than 150 years, and my father has no interest in taking on this obligation. He feels that Arendelle needs someone young and dynamic to lead it forward. Of all my brothers, I have spent the most time in Arendelle, by far. I have lived here for the past five years, and I have come to love this land and its people. I consider it my home. And so my father has entrusted me with the responsibility, the _honor_ , of leading Arendelle."

He took a paper from his briefcase and held it up. "If you look through the documentation in your portfolio, you will find a legally signed and sealed edict from my father, indicating that he has passed this duty to me."

This was technically true. The document his father had signed had granted Hans control over the Westergard interests in Arendelle. But a few digital tweaks here and there, some careful rewording, and a few thousand kroners directed to the proper bureaucrats, and Heinrich Westergard's routine business edict essentially became a Statement of Abdication.

It was risky, very risky. His father would find out what he had done, and his wrath would be terrifying. But by then, the news would be out and it would be too late for his father or brothers to interfere without a public loss of face. Hans was betting on the Westergard clan's tendency to close ranks against anything that could potentially embarrass the family. Heinrich Westergard might rage about it in private, but he would sooner die than admit that one of his sons had outfoxed him.

 _He'll probably convince himself that the whole thing was his idea in the first place, and that I simply carried out his brilliant plan._

That suited Hans just fine. He would rule Arendelle, restoring glory to the family, and bask in his father's approval while his brothers fumed in the background. He couldn't suppress a smile at the thought as he took his seat.

Councilor Brunsvold said, "The Proposal of Succession is officially submitted for consideration by this committee, to be passed to the full assembly of the Nasjonsting if the claim is found to be worthy."

He eyed Hans thoughtfully, his gray eyes piercing beneath bushy black eyebrows. Then he cleared his throat and continued, "Arendelle finds itself in a situation not faced in recent memory – the imminent passing of a monarch with no clear successor decreed. As such, it is the solemn duty of this committee to carefully assess any claim to our country's throne. This includes the hearing of objections to the claim or presentation of evidence as to why the claimant is unfit or should otherwise not be named as heir."

Hans stifled a smug grin, keeping his expression guileless. Who could possibly object? Arendelle would cease to exist if not for him.

Brunsvold continued. "We do have witnesses here this morning to testify as to why this claim should not move forward. Ms. Fjelstad, are your associates present?"

Hans whipped around to look at the woman at the other end of the table. Caught up in the brilliance of his own presentation, he had completely forgotten she was there. He had not anticipated objections during the first committee reading. Debate, certainly, but not outright opposition. Then his bewilderment turned to shock as Agdar Erikksen strode down the aisle, trailed by a young woman. Erikksen didn't even glance Hans' way as he and Fjelstad stood in front of the table to be sworn in.

"Please state your name and position for the committee," Brunsvold instructed as they were seated.

The woman leaned forward, speaking into the microphone on the table in front of her. "My name is Idunn Fjelstad. I am the Chief of the Royal Archives, but I am here today as the personal representative of His Majesty, King Haldor."

Shocked whispers rippled through the room. Fjelstad took a paper from her small attache case and handed it to the young woman, who pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her nose. Hans did a double-take.

 _Anna?_

Dressed in a black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse, her hair up in a businesslike bun, Anna looked almost nothing like the girl he'd once charmed. She met his eyes briefly, giving him a look of utter disgust, then carried the paper to Brunsvold. The chairman propped his glasses on his nose, his eyes widening a bit as he read it, and he shot an odd look at Hans and Froland.

"What's going on?!" Weselton hissed at Hans.

"I don't know," Hans replied from between clenched teeth. "Just sit back and let me handle it." He turned to Froland. "What is this?" he whispered harshly. "I thought the Chancellor's Office spoke with the King's voice!"

Froland spoke up. "Mr. Chairman, this is highly irregular. To the best of my knowledge, His Majesty has delegated this matter to the Chancellor's office."

"Apparently not," Brunsvold said dryly, brandishing the paper before passing it along to the other committee members. "Very well, Ms. Fjelstad. What is the nature of your objection to this claim?"

Fjelstad pulled another document from her case. "There are several, Mr. Chairman, the first of them being that Mr. Westergard, despite his impressive family tree, is not eligible to inherit the Crocus Throne under the provisions of the _Traktat av Norge_."

 _What?_ "Mr. Chairman, I'm afraid I don't understand," Hans said.

Brunsvold raised his eyebrows. "That is surprising, Ms. Fjelstad, I was not aware that the treaty specified any terms of succession. Could you clarify, please?"

Fjelstad handed Anna the second document to take to him. "This document was recently declassified. It is an amendment made to the _Traktat av Norge_ in 1830, signed by King Agðar II, as part of sovereignty negotiations between the nations of the Northern Realms. It is believed that Agðar signed this amendment under duress, to protect a family secret, and he ordered it sealed in the Royal Archives. Now, we all know that the _Traktat_ states that if there is no heir to the Crocus Throne, we will cede our sovereignty to Norway. This amendment makes that provision even stricter – it states that the heir must be of the Frostahl line, in direct descent from Agðar himself."

More murmurs through the room, louder this time. "Quiet, please!" Brunsvold instructed the audience.

"So you see, Mr. Chairman," Fjelstad continued, "without a complete renegotiation of the _Traktat_ , a foundational document of the Northern Realms, Mr. Westergard cannot lawfully inherit the throne."

Hans just gaped at her. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. If what she said was true, then all of this had been for naught. All of his hard work, planning and maneuvering. He could almost feel the crown slipping through his fingers.

 _No, I'm not letting it go that easily. There has to be a way._

He pulled himself together and spoke up. "Mr. Chairman, it is my understanding that His Majesty is the last of the Frostahl line. Surely he knows what that means for Arendelle's future. I will request an audience - "

Brunsvold cut him off. "You'll have your chance, Mr. Westergard. Ms. Fjelstad, we all know His Majesty is ill. Is he aware of our predicament?"

"Yes, he is. That is why Mr. Erikksen is here. There has always been speculation that there was a secret collateral line, a remaining Frostahl heir. He was tasked with searching for whoever he or she might be."

Froland slapped his hand on the table. "That is utterly untrue, Mr. Chairman! It is the responsibility of the Chancellor's office to conduct the search. Obviously, Ms. Fjelstad did not provide us with all of the necessary information. There was never any mention of an outside investigator being used."

"Mr. Erikksen, can you explain?"

"Yes, Mr. Chairman," Erikksen said. He folded his hands on the table, leaned forward, and spoke calmly into the microphone. "When Ms. Fjelstad first asked me to search for the rumored Frostahl heir, I was naturally curious as to why. After all, I'm a private citizen, with no official connections to the Castle bureaucracy. But I do keep my ear to the ground, and I had heard that there was …anxiety in some quarters about the prospect of a new monarch. Ms. Fjelstad was justifiably concerned that the search would be…compromised."

"Compromised in what way?"

"To put someone that could be controlled on the Crocus Throne, to ensure that certain powers and privileges would be maintained."

Brunsvold's bushy eyebrows shot up. "That's…an extraordinary assertion, Mr. Erikksen."

Erikksen nodded. "Indeed. About eighteen months ago, I was approached by a prominent businessman. He was familiar with my consulting firm, was aware that I knew many members of the Nasjonsting, and that I was, in fact, good friends with a number of them. This gentleman wanted me to help him with a special project."

"What sort of project?" Brunsvold prompted.

"He wanted me to help gather information about the councilors that could be used to blackmail them."

Hans froze. He heard Weselton's sharp intake of breath.

"Blackmail? How?" Brunsvold asked.

"He knew of my dedication to environmental and economic sustainability, and my efforts to convince our lawmakers of the benefits they would have for Arendelle."

"I think we're all aware of your efforts in those areas."

"It can be a tough sell in this building, for a number of reasons. I've used up most of my own money for this cause, and this man knew that, too. He believed I was desperate. An easy mark."

The committee members listened, enraptured. "How would this scheme work, Mr. Erikksen?" one of them asked.

"I would approach councilors – and certain bureaucrats – who could help influence environmental regulations, and also those in a position to approve funding for sustainable infrastructure projects. I would approach only those with…precarious…personal finance situations. If we're quite honest here, many, if not most, councilors need money. It's not a high-paying position, and living in Arendelle City is rather expensive."

There were grunts of agreement from the committee members.

"If they agreed to help me, they would be compensated after they left office. A retirement package of sorts. These 'retirement packages' would be funded by this gentleman. He also provided me with a specially-equipped briefcase to take covert video of incriminating conversations that I had with councilors. The man would then use the video to blackmail the councilors."

"To what purpose?" Brunsvold asked.

"Many of the people I was to target serve on committees overseeing policies that directly impact the business community. For example, two members of this committee, Councilors Eide and Pedersen, also serve on the Labor and Social Affairs committee, and thus make policy on wages, benefits, worker's compensation, and the like. His plan was to blackmail them – and others – into using their committee positions to create what he felt was a favorable business environment. Lower taxes, less regulation, weaker labor laws, that kind of thing."

"He's cut a deal!" Weselton hissed in Hans' ear. "Look at Eide and Pedersen! It's obvious they're backing his story. Brunsvold too!"

Hans had to agree. The politicians wore perfect expressions of righteous indignation. It wasn't like Weselton could just jump up and yell, "It didn't happen that way, he was already bribing them, I just caught him and used him for my own ends." At any other time, he would have found it amusing.

"And what did you do?" the chairman asked.

"I went to the councilors on the list at once and told them what happened, including Councilors Eide and Pedersen. We decided to set up a kind of sting. I would pretend to go along with the scheme, and they would pretend to be part of it. I would gather evidence, and once we felt like we had a strong enough case, we would take it to the National Police."

"Risky business." Brunsvold dangled his glasses from his fingers. "As interesting – and shocking – as this all is, Mr. Erikksen, what bearing does it have on the matter of the Proposal of Succession?" Brunsvold asked.

"It provides some context, Mr. Chairman. Not long after His Majesty fell ill, the focus of the scheme changed from specific committees to the Nasjonsting as a whole, and the gentleman became more vague about his goal. Then, several weeks ago, I became aware of the involvement of another man. He said some things that made me think we were working toward the same end – a new monarch – but with very different outcomes in mind.

"In the meantime, my associate, Elsa Kjarensen, became suspicious of me. I obviously couldn't confide in her. She went to the National Police on her own, and they started an investigation. The businessman and his associate found out about this, and arranged to have Ms. Kjarensen killed. She escaped, thank God, but the NP agent with her was killed."

The entire room started buzzing at this. Brunsvold and the rest of the committee stared at Erikksen in disbelief. Finally, the chairman cleared his throat and said, "You're saying that a prominent businessman is responsible for the murder of a National Police agent?"

"Yes. He arranged for the hit on Ms. Kjarensen to stop the investigation. He missed the first time, but his men caught up with her at her safe house in the mountains. You see, he couldn't have the NPs interfering with his plan, which was to become a kingmaker. He would use blackmail to get the Nasjonsting to put an heir of his choosing on the Crocus Throne."

The chamber erupted. Cameras clicked all over the room, an undertone to the babble of confused and outraged voices.

"Quiet, please! Quiet!" Brunsvold banged his gavel. "Can you tell us who these men are, Mr. Erikksen?"

Erikksen turned. He met Hans' eyes and gave him a slight smile before pointing directly at him.

"Eckbert Weselton and Hans Westergard."

Weselton exploded from his seat, waving his fists in the air. "That is a lie!" he screeched. "This man was in my house a few nights ago, with that woman!" He pointed at Anna. "She held a gun to my head! They threatened me, told me this same crazy story! They said they had evidence of it, but they ran away when I called their bluff." He jabbed his finger at Erikksen and Anna. "I demand that you place them under arrest at once!"

"I have proof of everything I've told you," Erikksen said.

He gestured to Anna, who pulled a laptop from her attache case and booted it up. A few clicks later, and her laptop was mirrored to the monitors at each committee member's station, as well as to the big TV mounted behind the dais. Everyone in the room watched breathlessly as the screen came to life.

In high definition, the TV showed Anna and Erikksen leaving Weselton's study through the French window. Weselton went to his desk and picked up the phone, then put it down and reached into a drawer to take out a mobile phone. The view split, and Hans closed his eyes as an image of him in his own study came up to share the screen with Weselton.

 _Oh, shit…_

Their entire conversation played out before the rapt audience – the blackmail scheme, the killing of the NP, ordering the murders of Anna and Erikksen. Hans' revelation of his plan to take the Crocus Throne, and how he would go about proving it, including the altered letter from his father. The look of triumph he wore on the screen was the polar opposite of the defeat he felt right now.

The screen went black and the room was absolutely silent. Hans ran a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to slump his shoulders. Froland stared at him with a mixture of anger and contempt. Weselton collapsed back into his chair, staring slack-jawed at the TV.

Brunsvold leaned forward and spoke. "Since you've admitted that Mr. Erikksen was in your house a few nights ago, I'm guessing you're not going to dispute this evidence, Mr. Weselton? Mr. Westergard?"

Hans just stared at Erikksen and Anna. Erikksen's head was on the table, his hand on Anna's. The two were clearly exhausted. Fjelstad leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Erikksen raised his head and said into his mic, "Mr. Chairman, there is one more thing. My search for the Frostahl heir bore fruit." He took a thick leather-bound portfolio from his briefcase, and Anna carried it to Brunsvold. "This report details my findings. Your committee should expect to hear another Proposal of Succession very soon."

Hans watched as Brunsvold opened the cover and glanced at the first page. The chairman's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Hans' stomach lurched; not only had the crown slipped through his fingers, it had clattered to the floor, out of his reach.

He glanced around the hearing room and swallowed hard. At some point, several uniformed members of His Majesty's Own had slipped in and were standing sentry by the doors. The men who should have been his bodyguards might well become his jailers.

"Elsa Kjarensen survived the second assassination attempt as well," Erikksen said. "She was gravely injured, and is still in intensive care. Her survival is of the utmost importance, because Elsa Christianne Katarina Kjarensen is the last of the Frostahls."

The crowd gasped. Hans jaw dropped. Brunsvold just looked at Erikksen for a moment before he spoke.

"So you're saying…?"

"Yes. Elsa Kjarensen is the heir to the Crocus Throne."

* * *

Anna watched with a slight smile as Lieutenant Helga Sinclair intercepted the Weasel at the door and snapped a pair of handcuffs on him. Hans turned to leave, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Kristoff Bjorgman and Colonel Markus Gunnarsen advancing on him with murderous looks. A pair of cuffs dangled from one of Kristoff's hands, while the other rested pointedly on his sidearm.

"Let's get out of here before we get swarmed," Agdar said, jerking his head at the crowd of reporters pressing relentlessly toward them.

Anna stuffed her laptop in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then she, Agdar, and Idunn rose from the table and made their way toward the aisle, ignoring the insistent shouts of reporters. She brushed by Hans without speaking or even glancing at him, but a hand grabbed her arm and swung her around.

She found herself looking into Hans' olive-green eyes. She shuddered. How could she ever have thought that she loved this beautiful monster?

"How?" he asked, bewilderment all over his face. He took a menacing step toward her, but Kristoff grabbed his arm. "How did you do it? The throne should have been mine!"

Anna just stared at him for a minute, quivering with anger. _I'm the bigger person, I'm the bigger person, be the bigger person_ , she chanted to herself.

She turned on her heel to walk away.

 _Fuck it!_

She dropped her laptop case and spun back around. Her mouth curled up in a huge grin at the flash of terror she saw on Hans' face right before her fist connected with his nose.

* * *

 _A/N - Now you can't tell me you didn't see that coming... *g*_

 _Much gratitude to grrlgeek72 and vesfarhloc for proofing, correcting, and generally not letting me off the hook._


	44. Chapter 44

_Disclaimer: Frozen = Disney's_

* * *

Anna pulled back the hood of her sweatshirt and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet as she watched the lighted numbers on the hospital's elevator slowly increase. On Gunnarsen's instructions, she had taken a seriously winding route to the hospital to make sure she wasn't followed. And she'd still had to dodge a couple of reporters who were hanging around the hospital lobby, presumably trying to figure out if Elsa was here.

 _Friggin' vultures._

Elsa had finally gained enough strength to be moved out of the ICU, and this was the first time Anna had been allowed to see her. Her entire body buzzed with restless anticipation, one hand clutching tightly to a basket of flowers, a copy of _The Arendelle Daily Standard_ in the other.

She hadn't been sure until last night that she would be allowed to visit Elsa at all. Her pleas to Gunnarsen had fallen on deaf ears - the man didn't have a soft spot anywhere, and had proven immune to her pathetic begging and crying. When begging and crying failed, she'd showered him with a torrent of creative invectives, but he'd just quirked one eyebrow and refused to budge.

She supposed she really should be grateful for his zealous dedication.

But he had finally relented. She suspected that Agdar had interceded and convinced him to allow her this visit. Grudgingly allowed, but still, Anna would take it. _Guess I owe Agdar one now. I'm not sure how many visits I'll get before…_

She deliberately derailed that train of thought, determined to just enjoy today. Elsa was alive, and getting better every day, she'd been told. Gunnarsen, along with Kristoff, Sinclair, and the few others who knew about her, was treating Elsa's location as a matter of the gravest national security, and maintaining absolute secrecy about her identity and whereabouts. Elsa was here under an alias, and had a guard stationed outside her room twenty-four/seven.

Hopefully, Elsa wouldn't be here much longer. The revelations in the Nasjonsting had kicked off a national frenzy, and Anna figured it was only a matter of time before someone figured out where she was. Desperate for any information about the mysterious new heir, every idiot with journalistic aspirations was shoving a mic into the face of anyone willing to talk about her.

And there were a lot of people willing to talk about her. The problem was that the ones running their mouths the loudest didn't know shit about Elsa. Politicians grandstanded; it seemed that every councilor who had ever taken a meeting with Elsa was crowding in front of the cameras to brag about their Close Working Relationship with the future Queen.

In fact, it seemed that the only people not talking were the ones that actually knew Elsa. One enterprising tabloid journalist had even tracked down Oaken, the caretaker for Elsa's mountain house. Anna giggled as she remembered the video of Oaken, a seven-foot giant of a man, tossing the prissy little shit face-first out into the snow with a cheerful "Bye-bye!"

Anna glanced down at her newspaper. Right on the front page, above the fold, was a picture of her at the Nasjonsting. More specifically, a picture of her and Hans, her fist smashing into his face, under a banner headline that read _"LESE MAJESTE?"_

She wondered what Elsa would say when she saw it.

So far, Anna had managed to elude even the most persistent reporters, holing up with one of Eugene's buddies. Even if one did come sniffing around, one sneer from Hook Hand (delivered while polishing said hook) would be enough to send them hunting for easier quarry. Surely they would lose interest in her after a while. She hoped it wouldn't take long; Olaf kept texting her lengthy complaints about the news people camped around their apartment house.

 _They all wanna know where you are. But don't worry, I'm not talking! Besides, Marshmallow keeps them from getting too close!_

 _Yeah, I bet he does,_ Anna thought with a grin.

Eugene was even worse than Olaf; his constant bitching about the number of people hanging around his bike shop who weren't buying anything was driving her nuts, and she had stopped answering his calls.

Weselton's bombastic lawyer had already hit all of the morning news shows, loudly proclaiming his client's innocence. It was a claim immediately undermined by a judge's refusal to grant bail on the grounds that Weselton was a flight risk.

Anna suspected that Weselton's safety was the real reason behind the bail denial. Virtually overnight, he had gone from being one of the kingdom's most respected men to one of its most hated.

Second-most hated, really. The top spot undoubtedly belonged to Hans. Not only had he tried to murder the rightful heir, he was a foreigner, a _Southern Islander_ no less, who had tried to steal the Crocus Throne. The citizens of Arendelle were outraged, and the calls for Hans' head were loud and long.

The elevator dinged to a stop. Anna bounded out as soon as the doors opened and immediately collided with someone in the corridor, sending her flower basket flying.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" she apologized over her shoulder as she scrambled after the basket. She scooped it up and examined it. A few blooms from the arrangement of crocuses, hyacinths, and tulips had worked loose. Anna adjusted them in the basket as she made her way down the hospital corridor.

Elsa's room was at the very end of the long hallway. Anna's brow furrowed in an uneasy frown as she drew closer and saw the empty chair just outside of the room. _I thought she was supposed to be under constant guard._ She knocked on the door.

"El – Ingrid?" she called softly, using Elsa's alias.

No answer. She sighed. Why did Elsa always seem to be on the other side of a closed door? She knocked again, and when she got no response, pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Anna's eyes darted around, anxiety pooling in the pit of her stomach. The bed was stripped. There were no monitors, none of the IV lines or extra equipment that would normally be present for a patient with Elsa's injuries. She squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight that poured through the open blinds, her nose wrinkling at the sharp smell of antiseptics and cleaning fluids.

 _Where is she?_ Anna walked around the room in a daze for a few seconds, pulling open the small storage closet and sticking her head into the bathroom. Then, struggling to control her mounting dread, she raced back down the hall to the nurses' station. The duty nurse scowled when she skidded into the counter and knocked over a cup of pens.

"The patient in 1840? Where is she?" Anna panted.

The nurse looked down the hall, then back at Anna, her expression softening. "Are you family?" she asked.

"Yes," Anna lied.

The nurse glanced at the flower basket, a distressed look on her face. "Didn't anyone call you?"

"Call me? About what?"

The nurse's mouth turned down, her eyes filling with sympathy. Anna gripped the basket hard as her anxiety began to escalate into full-blown panic. "Call me about what?!" she demanded.

"She's gone. Last night."

Anna lurched back a step. "Wh-what are you talking about?" She dropped the flowers and newspaper and grabbed at the counter, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. "But…but…she was out of danger! Getting better! She was going to make it!" Her voice rose until she was practically screaming at the nurse. "What the hell are you talking about, _gone_?!"

The nurse came around the counter and took her arm, steering her away from the station. "Please, ma'am, there are other patients here."

"She can't be," Anna whispered. Tears stung her eyes. "She can't be…th - that's just a story, isn't it? That's just a story! To keep her safe, right?!"

"What?" the nurse asked, sounding confused.

"Just a story…" Anna jerked her arm loose and stumbled away. Pain squeezed her chest, like an icy vise around her heart. She bumped into the wall, pressing a hand against her sternum and gasping for air. "How…?"

"I don't know the exact details," the nurse said. "I wasn't on duty. I can refer you to someone who can answer your questions." She put her hand on Anna's arm again.

"I'll take it from here," a deep voice said.

Anna looked up through tear-blurred vision to see Kristoff Bjorgman. He reached out to touch her shoulder, and she sagged into him, burying her face in his broad chest.

* * *

 _Shit!_ Kristoff cursed to himself. _Five minutes too late. Fucking traffic._ He'd meant to get to the hospital before Anna, so he could tell her what happened. He wrapped one arm around Anna and extended the other with his creds for the nurse to see. "I'll take care of her," he said. She nodded and walked back to her station.

"Come on," he said to Anna. "Let's go someplace quiet and talk."

She nodded against his chest, but didn't move. He started to lead her down the hall, but she wobbled and nearly fell, her legs unsteady. After a few seconds, he gave up and scooped her into his arms. Anna kept her face against his chest, her slim body trembling. Her tears soaked through his shirt, and he cursed silently again.

"Sir?" He turned to see the nurse approaching with a basket of flowers and a newspaper. "These are hers," she explained. Kristoff nodded, and she tucked them into Anna's hands. Anna didn't even look, just crushed it against her body.

He carried her past the elevators and into a small room that served as a chapel/prayer room for family and friends of patients. He set her down on one of the hard wooden chairs near the altar, then fetched a box of tissues from the corner.

"Anna, I'm sorry," he said, offering her a tissue. "I knew you were coming today, and I meant to get here before you. You shouldn't have had to hear that from a nurse; it's wasn't what we intended."

"It-it wouldn't be any easier hearing it from you." She sniffled, wiping at her eyes and nose with the tissue. "Elsa's still dead, no matter who tells me about it."

Kristoff looked at the flower basket that she still clutched in one hand, and his heart went out to her. At that moment, he wasn't a NP agent; he was simply a fellow human being, sitting next to a young woman whose heart was breaking. And what he had to tell her might make it both better and worse at the same time.

 _Goddammit, how did I get stuck with this?_ Breaking this to Anna was supposed to have been Agdar's responsibility, not his. But Agdar had been summoned to the Castle, so the job of intercepting Anna had been left to Kristoff.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Anna, Elsa's alive."

She just blinked rapidly for a moment, confusion in her eyes. "Wh-what…?" she finally stammered.

"Elsa's alive," he repeated. "She was moved to the Castle late last night, in secret. The order came from King Haldor himself. Her DNA test came back, and now all the proof is in: Elsa is the heir to the Crocus Throne."

Anna's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. He could almost see the circuits firing in her head as she processed his statement.

"Since she's out of the ICU, the Royal medical staff can handle her care. Obviously, they have the experience, considering the King's condition, and they thought it best to go ahead and move her. I think Gunnarsen was afraid you'd be followed here. I guess there will be an official announcement about Elsa at some point…"

He trailed off as the confusion left her face, and her eyes lit up with rage. She sprang to her feet, and he barely got his arms up in time to keep her swinging fist from connecting with his face.

"Asshole!" she screamed, chucking the flowers at him. "You let me think she was dead!"

Then she was on him like a wild animal, pummeling his arms and shoulders and chest. One of her punches got through his guard, landing on the side of his head. He jumped to his feet, a bit stunned, and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her against his body and trapping her flailing fists.

He held her like that until he felt her slump against him, the fight gone out of her. "I thought she was dead," he heard her whisper. "I didn't even get to talk to her…"

Kristoff just held her, unsure of what he should, or even could, say to her. What could he possibly say to make this situation less shitty?

Agdar had told him about Anna and Elsa, the feelings they had for each other despite their short acquaintance. But with Elsa's new status as the heir presumptive, it seemed that her personal relationships would no longer be, well, _personal_ – they were now a matter of national concern, and according to Agdar, a subject of discussion for the small committee inside the Castle that was now maneuvering the succession.

Apparently, this committee had decided that any kind of a permanent relationship between Anna and Elsa was impossible, given their circumstances. Elsa needed to heal, they'd said, and there was no way of knowing exactly how much time she would have to do that before the duties of the monarch would rest solely on her shoulders. It was an immense responsibility being thrust upon a young woman who'd had no idea it was coming and no training to prepare for it. It was unlikely that she would have the time or the energy for an intimate relationship for quite a while.

And then there was the question of heirs. After their country's flirtation with existential disaster, the citizens of Arendelle would want assurances that it wouldn't happen again. There would be enormous pressure on Elsa to marry and have children.

According to this committee, anyway.

Agdar tried to put a positive spin on it. _Maybe it would be kinder to both of them to do it this way,_ he had told Kristoff, though it wasn't clear that he actually believed that himself. _Ease Anna out of Elsa's life now, before their relationship develops any further_. _Who knows, it might be one of those things that happens under intense circumstances, not destined to last anyway. Maybe it's better that it ends now, before the tabloid press finds out about it. Anna understands what's at stake; she will want what's best for Elsa. And for Arendelle._

Privately, Kristoff thought that was a steaming pile. Elsa was going to be Queen. If she wanted to be with Anna, who was going to stop her? Who was going to dictate to the Queen how and with whom she would conduct her private life? Becoming Queen didn't mean Elsa stopped being a person. If Anna made her happy, then wasn't that what was best for Arendelle?

But no one had asked for his opinion.

And that was a good thing, he reflected as he gently patted Anna's back. Right now, his opinion would likely be harsh, unkind, and mostly unrepeatable. Anna didn't deserve this. She clearly cared about Elsa. She'd already shown that she was willing to risk her life for her; she'd earned the right to see her and at least get some closure.

Anna finally pushed away from him. "How is she?" she asked quietly, swiping away tears.

"She's recovering, but it's slow." He took her hand. "I won't lie to you, Anna, they almost lost her a couple more times along the way. That bullet was vicious. It did some serious damage."

"But she's out of the woods now?"

"Yes." He met her eyes, and she nodded, then picked up her mangled flower basket and newspaper and started toward the door. "Anna, wait. Let me take you for some coffee or something, and we can talk."

She stopped at the door and turned to face him. "What's left to talk about, Kristoff? Elsa's gone, at least as far as I'm concerned. I knew it was coming, but I thought…"

Her voice trailed off. Then she was gone, fleeing down the hall. Kristoff chased her, catching up to her at the elevators. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know." She glanced down at the flowers, then handed them to him. "Can you make sure that she gets these?"

He looked at the crushed basket for a second and started to tell her no, that he wouldn't be seeing Elsa anytime soon, that right now, she was just as inaccessible to him as she was to Anna. But when he saw her pleading face, he couldn't find the words. "Sure," he said with a nod.

She gave him a sad little smile and stepped onto the elevator. She hunched her shoulders and hung her head, digging her hands deep into her sweatshirt pockets. Kristoff swallowed over the ache in his throat as he watched the doors close between them.

* * *

A steady beep pushed its way into Elsa's mind, pulling her into that semi-lucid state that hovered on the edge between sleep and true wakefulness. _I'm alive_ , she thought, the words echoing so clearly through her head that she was sure she had spoken them aloud, though she had not.

She wanted to open her eyes, but her lids felt so heavy that she gave up after a few attempts. Her whole body ached, most especially her chest. Odd thoughts darted in and out of her head, and part of her recognized she had been drugged.

Not drugged. Sedated?

 _Papa, what's wrong with Mama?_

A single irrational thought, zipping across her brain. She recognized it as such, and struggled to focus as she cataloged her surroundings. That rhythmic beep – _heart monitor?_ – in her ears, the cool flow of dry, astringent air into her nostrils. A hospital room? She seemed to be full of tubes. She felt the uncomfortable pinch and pull of an IV line in her arm, there were two tubes coming out of her nose, and under the sheets…what on earth was that between her legs…?

 _Mama's dying, Snowflake. She's been shot._

The dark void of a gun muzzle. The flash of a shot.

 _No, no, she hasn't, Papa, that's me._

She shook her head, as though she could shoo away the peculiar thoughts flitting randomly through her mind. The small action hurt her head, and she stilled for a moment before forcing her eyes open.

They still seemed so heavy, and she settled for gazing through the screen of her eyelashes. She was in a hospital bed, she saw, elevated so that she was half-sitting up. Two bags hung from a rack next to the bed, a tube coming from each to join into a single tube that led to her IV feed. On the other side of the bed was the heart monitor, the peaks on its screen corresponding with its chirp. She looked down at her chest, seeing the electrodes taped there, her nightgown unbuttoned to accommodate them.

Nightgown. Not a hospital gown, but a regular nightgown. One of hers.

With a Herculean effort, Elsa opened her eyes all the way. She was in a hospital bed, surrounded by hospital equipment, but this was definitely not a hospital room. It was high-ceilinged, decorated in muted blues and purples, the sun streaming through a tall, triangular window.

 _Where am I, Papa?_

 _You were shot, Snowflake. You're dead._

 _I'm not dead. I'm in too much pain to be dead._

As if on cue, a burning throb flared in her chest, bringing her to full wakefulness. A pathetic whimper reached her ears, and it took a moment to realize that it came from her. She tried to raise her hand to her chest, to press back against the pain there. But her arm proved to be too heavy, and she let it flop back to her side.

A hand came down over hers. "Welcome back, my dear," a kindly female voice said.

Elsa turned toward the voice. A tall woman with a careworn face smiled gently at her. She wore purple hospital scrubs and had a stethoscope dangling from her neck. "My name is Gerda, Your Highness. I'm part of the Royal medical staff."

 _Your Highness? Royal medical staff?_

"Where am I?" Elsa tried to say, but all that came out was a dry croak that made her throat ache. Gerda reached for a jug on the table beside the bed, and held a spoonful of ice chips up to Elsa's mouth. Elsa sucked them in greedily, sighing at the cool relief.

"They had to intubate you at the hospital," Gerda explained. "That's why your throat hurts."

Elsa tried again. "Wh-where am I now?"

"Arendelle Castle, Your Highness." Gerda fussed around her for a few minutes, checking her vitals, then picked up a tablet and started tapping on it. "I've summoned the doctor. He'll want to take a look at you."

Elsa closed her eyes and tried to collect her fragmented thoughts. Arendelle Castle. Agdar. Her mountain house. Anna. The story of the Frostahl heir. The ice and snow.

She felt the odd tingling in her palms, and strained to lift her hands. Tiny snowflakes swirled around her fingertips in a blue-white glow, and she gasped as she remembered.

 _I'm the Frostahl heir._

She stared transfixed at the snow hovering over her palm.

 _They want me to be the Queen._

"So it's true."

The voice she heard was thin, a bit reedy, but compelling nonetheless. Elsa turned her head to see an elderly man in a wheelchair, a doctor pushing it up beside her bed. The man was obviously ill – he had a frail, sallow appearance, with oxygen tubes in his nose. Yet he sat ramrod straight in the chair, and when Elsa looked at his time-worn face, a pair of crystal-blue eyes gazed back at her.

 _Frostahl eyes_ , she realized.

"Oh, my dear," King Haldor of Arendelle said with a small smile. "Welcome home."

* * *

 _The End_

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 _A/N: Just kidding. But we are close!_

 _Thanks to everyone who come along on this ride with me. I appreciate all the comments and feedback and encouragement I've gotten from everyone along the way_

 _Special thanks to Vesfarhloc and grrlgeek72 (Lese Majeste?) for their corrections, prodding, and suggestions for this chapter._


	45. Chapter 45

_Disclaimer: After 18 months and 165K words...I still don't own Frozen_

* * *

 _-Six months later-_

"I, Elsa Christianne Katarina Kjarensen Frostahl, do solemnly swear that I will govern the Kingdom of Arendelle in accordance with our laws and traditions; that I will defend and preserve, with all my power, the independence and territory of the Kingdom; that I will protect the freedom and the rights of all its citizens, as a just and true Queen should do. This I promise before God Almighty."

Elsa lowered her right hand. The First Justice of the High Court of Arendelle gave her a slight bow and stepped back. Elsa turned to face the full assembly of the Nasjonsting, clasping her hands in front of her to hide their trembling. She'd been in this chamber a hundred times before, but this time…she felt like an imposter. A little girl pretending to be a queen.

Oh, she looked the part well enough, she knew, wearing a simple but superbly tailored black mourning dress, the red sash of the Royal Order of Saint Tove draped diagonally across her body. Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, topped by a tiny white-gold tiara with a flawless sapphire nestled in the center. But looking like a queen didn't actually make her a queen, and Elsa could not quite shake the feeling that she had somehow stepped through a portal into an alternate universe.

Suppressing the urge to wring her hands together, she instead raised them, signaling the councilors to take their seats. Then she stepped to the podium, gazing out over the semicircular chamber. An enormous chandelier hung over the center, its light reflecting in the hundreds of tiny gold crocuses woven into the green and purple patterned carpet. A room steeped in Arendelle's tradition and history. She could practically feel the weight of that history pressing down on her shoulders. She was twenty-five years old - how could she possibly live up to that tradition?

 _I have to. I don't have a choice._

She took a deep breath and in a clear, steady voice, addressed her nation for the first time as its Queen.

"As I accept the honor of leading Arendelle, I would like to express to our citizens that I hope to have a close and productive working relationship with their elected representatives. It will be of the utmost importance as we face the challenges of the future."

She paused for a moment, taking in the faces of the councilors – some smiling, some impassive, but all attentive. So many of them were familiar to her – would they be able to put aside their notions of Elsa Kjarensen and work with Queen Elsa in the best interests of the country?

That was a worry for another time.

"The enormous outpouring of sympathy over the last two days has made it clear that the people of Arendelle share my grief and heartbreak over the passing of King Haldor. The candlelight vigils, flowers, and handwritten notes in the Castle courtyard, along with the condolence messages from throughout the country, have provided me with immeasurable consolation."

Elsa gripped the podium to still her shaking hands, then immediately let go when frost started crawling across the wood. Her powers were not public knowledge, and now was hardly the time to reveal them. She wasn't really sure there ever be a good time to reveal them.

She swallowed and continued, "And now I must ask you for that same heartfelt support as we make our way forward. Ours is a country in transition, and it is with great humility that I step into a line of revered kings and queens. My royal duties begin with a sense of community. The warmth of a whole nation surrounds me and gives me strength in this difficult time. We are a small country, but together we can accomplish great things."

Elsa stepped back from the podium, feeling that her first great accomplishment was getting through her (thankfully) short speech. The councilors stood, and she acknowledged them with a nod of her head before exiting the chamber. Her guards escorted her out of the building and into a waiting staff car.

She slumped back against the seat and closed her eyes as the car pulled away from the Nasjonsting.

"Are you all right, Your Majesty?" her bodyguard asked.

It took her a moment to respond. It wasn't the first time she'd been addressed as 'Your Majesty' – that had happened the night Gerda had awakened her to tell her that Haldor had passed away - but that title still hadn't quite set in for her. Hell, she'd barely gotten used to being called 'Your Highness.'

Everything had happened so fast. Too fast. She remembered the grief and panic – culminating in a small but violent blizzard in her bedroom – that had nearly consumed her when Gerda wakened her that night. When she had finally pulled herself together, she'd been whisked into a special midnight Council of State, where an official announcement was made to the people of Arendelle. And here she was, two days later, swearing the Queen's Oath in the Nasjonsting.

She opened her eyes and turned her head. "I thought we had an agreement, Kristoff."

Kristoff Bjorgman cocked an eyebrow at her. "We're not alone," he said, waving vaguely at the driver."

Elsa sighed. "As you say."

They rode in silence back to the Castle, the car entering the grounds through the tunnel under the fjord. The driver followed a narrow vehicle path along the back wall to the south side of Arendelle Chapel. Kristoff got out and opened Elsa's door for her, then followed her through the royal family's private entrance into the church.

Haldor's casket rested on a bier in front of the altar, draped with Arendelle's purple and green national flag. The King's Crown set on top of the casket, where it would remain until after the funeral service, three days from now.

The soldiers standing honor guard around the bier stiffened even more when she approached. "Your Majesty," the sergeant of the guard greeted. Elsa nodded in acknowledgement, then went to the _prie-deux_ and knelt. But instead of praying, she just stared at Haldor's casket, torn between grief and anger.

 _Damn you, why did you have to go? I'm not ready for this!_

In the end, Haldor had given himself back to Arendelle, taking Elsa under his wing and preparing her to ascend to the throne. For the last several months, they had spent every day together, for as many hours as possible, given her injuries and his illness. Her days became an endless cycle of medical exams and physical therapy followed by hours spent buried in dusty law and history tomes, and meetings with ministers and sub-ministers about the state of Arendelle's economy and its relationships with other countries.

Haldor proved to be a tough taskmaster, determined to make sure that she was as prepared as possible. Elsa suspected that he was at least partly driven by guilt, and was determined to make up for his years of neglect. But she had grown to respect and even love him. It had been painful to watch him deteriorate, especially as she herself grew stronger every day.

Elsa put a hand to her chest, pressing against the sudden ache there. _I miss you already, Cousin. I'll miss your wisdom. How am I going to do this by myself?_

It was just a few weeks ago that she had been on her knees right here at this _prie-deux_ , head bowed as the Bishop of Arendelle blessed her, sanctifying Haldor's declaration of Elsa as his heir, Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess of Arendelle.

And now she was the Queen.

The actual coronation wouldn't take place until July, on Saint Tove's Day, when she would stand in front of the altar and the Bishop would declare her _Verðug dróttning stór_ , Worthy Queen of Greatness.

But the responsibility was already hers.

She blinked back a few tears. She mourned not only what she had personally lost, but what Arendelle had lost as well. Haldor may have been ill, but his mind had still been sharp. Why, oh why, had he deprived Arendelle of his leadership for twenty-five years?

She finally closed her eyes and murmured a prayer, the words coming automatically to her lips even after so long away from the Church. She crossed herself and rose just as Bishop Lofthus approached and said, "Your Majesty, we are ready to open the chapel to the public."

Elsa nodded, and left the chapel through the private door. Bypassing the car, she followed a covered walkway that led from the chapel around to the garden entrance to the Castle's residential wing. She paused there for a moment, staring up at the huge stone-and-wood structure, its steep roofs and large eaves casting shadows over everything around it.

Including her.

Kristoff trailed behind her as she went inside and climbed a curved staircase. But instead of entering her private apartments – which were enclosed on all sides, rather like a separate house built entirely inside the Castle - she turned away from the guarded door and walked down the wide corridor toward the King's office.

 _The Queen's office_ , she reminded herself. _My office…_

"You're going to work?" Kristoff asked, sounding surprised.

"The business of the Kingdom is never-ending," she replied with a wry smile. Kristoff frowned, but opened the office door for her. "There's no need for you to hang around, Kristoff. I don't have any other engagements today."

"Well, no. Everyone else is off today, you know. You could at least relax for a little bit. Change your clothes. I'll have the kitchen send up tea. No one expects you to work today, Elsa."

She bit back a little laugh. Kristoff was equal parts bodyguard and mother hen. She suspected that was why Colonel Gunnarsen had lured him over from the National Police. If she was going to have to spend her days in the company of a large armed man wearing a suit and sunglasses, it was best if she was comfortable with him. And despite the circumstances that had initially brought them together, she _was_ comfortable with him.

As much as it was possible for her to be, anyway.

"Some tea would be nice," she conceded.

Kristoff nodded and went to the secretary's desk to call the kitchen. Elsa went into the King's office. _Your office_ , the little voice in her head corrected. She took one look at the big desk and stopped short.

According to legend, the massive piece of furniture was made from the oak of the first _langskip_ to ever sail into the fjord, putting ashore a fierce band of warriors who built the nation that would become Arendelle. Elsa wasn't sure she believed that – after all, her country had almost a thousand years of recorded history – but it certainly looked like it, gnarled with age despite its polished finish.

"Why shouldn't I believe it?" she murmured to herself. She conjured a small snowstorm in her palm. _A thousand-year-old desk isn't that odd compared to this…_

She had yet to actually sit behind the desk. And though all of her work had been moved from the smaller office down the hall, she had no desire to sit behind it now.

She clenched her fist over the swirling snowflakes. _I need some air._

She crossed the room and opened a set of double doors that led out to a small balcony overlooking the front courtyard. Arendelle was still brushing away the remnants of its long winter, but the early spring day was sunny and unseasonably warm. Elsa closed her eyes as the breeze from the fjord blew across her face. She stepped out onto the balcony.

"Oh…"

The late afternoon sun spilled across the huge throng in the courtyard. The citizens of Arendelle had come to pay their respects to the late King. The queue in front of the chapel was five or six across and stretched back through the gates and well onto the bridge. People not in line milled around the courtyard, adding their wreaths and floral tributes to the thousands already lining the walls.

Before she could step back, a cry of "The Queen!" went up from the crowd.

Shouts of "Your Majesty!" and "Queen Elsa!" rippled through the courtyard, and soon every eye was turned her way.

Elsa's first instinct was to retreat, especially when she heard Kristoff's angry protests filter out through the balcony door. The last thing she wanted was to cause a stir that would pull attention away from the chapel. But she could see the trust, the hope, in the faces closest to the Castle, and knew that she needed to acknowledge it. So she stepped up to the railing and raised her hand to wave. A cheer went up, along with cries of "Long live the Queen!" and "Our beautiful Queen!"

A wave of warmth washed over her as she listened to the cheers. She just hoped that she could live up to her people's apparent faith in her.

After a few minutes, Elsa decided she should probably go back inside before Kristoff had a coronary, or worse, gave into his instincts and hauled her away bodily. His muted griping faded into a sigh of relief as she waved one last time before stepping through the doors and closing them behind her.

"What were you thinking?" Kristoff scolded her. "Do you know how exposed you are out there?"

"I just needed some air," Elsa replied.

Kristoff ran his hand through his hair. "Gunnarsen may kill us both for that, you know. I can already picture that vein throbbing…"

"Me too." Elsa couldn't help but giggle a little at the mental image of Colonel Gunnarsen, his face red and that big purple vein in his temple pounding like a drum. "He might have a stroke before he can kill either one of us."

"Yeah, he might," Kristoff said. "But seriously, Elsa, there are plenty of other places where you can get some air besides the balcony that faces the public courtyard."

"I know. I just wasn't thinking. I apologize now for any trouble this might cause you, Kristoff."

He waved it off. "I can handle Gunnarsen, don't worry. I called for some tea for you. It should be up soon. I'll check on you in a little while. Stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I'll try," she said with a little smile. He gave her a slight bow and left the office.

Elsa took a deep breath and sat down at her desk. An enormous weight seemed to settle over her. She reached up and removed the tiara, placing it carefully on the desk. Then she took off the sash of Saint Tove and laid it beside the tiara.

It made no difference. She imagined she could still feel the tiara weighing down on her head with an unrelenting pressure. How could such tiny thing be so heavy?

Her eyelids fluttered, and she sank back in the chair, suddenly bone-weary. She had made remarkable progress, medically speaking, though she still tired easily and had yet to regain all the weight she had lost.

Her strange abilities had contributed to her progress, she was quite sure, but her doctor refused to speculate on that. Elsa could tell that her ice powers bothered him more than he let on, because he couldn't explain them. Curious herself, she allowed him to analyze a number of blood samples, but he found no explanation. Her DNA test had shown nothing out of the ordinary. He'd finally thrown his hands up in frustration and concluded that they were just a part of her.

God-given, the Bishop said.

Elsa wasn't so sure about _that_.

Either way, she wasn't entirely convinced that this weariness was related to her physical health.

There was a knock at the door, and Elsa started. _Did I fall asleep?_

The door opened and a maid – _Dagmar_ , she thought – came in with a tea tray. "The tea you asked for, Your Majesty." She set the tray on the small table beside the desk and poured a cup for Elsa.

"Thank you, Dagmar."

"My pleasure, ma'am," Dagmar said. She gestured at the sash and tiara. "Would you like for me to take those to the Chamberlain? She will make sure they are put away properly."

"Yes, please."

Dagmar took the regalia and left the office. Elsa watched the door close behind her. Even with the muted buzz of the crowd in the courtyard, the office suddenly seemed to take on an oppressive silence.

It occurred to her that despite being constantly surrounded by people, she had never felt quite so alone.

* * *

When he got no response to his light knock, Kristoff eased open the office door and stuck his head inside. The Queen – _Elsa_ – sat at her desk, one elbow on the chair's armrest, hand supporting her head. A tablet was propped up on her lap. Kristoff shook his head. She obviously had yet to leave the office, since she still wore the black dress from the oath-taking ceremony hours before. He wondered if she'd even eaten anything.

She didn't look up when he stepped inside, and at first he thought she was sleeping. Then he saw he saw her flick her wrist, almost absently, and snowflakes streamed from her fingertips. Kristoff watched in wonder as they swirled into the center of the room, coalescing into…

 _A snowman?_

It was. A little snowman, about three feet tall, with a goofy buck-toothed grin, now stood in the middle of the Queen's office. As he watched, Elsa flicked her hand again, and a pair of black-framed reading glasses swooped from the desk and settled on the snowman's face. He seemed to be such a happy fellow that Kristoff couldn't help but smile.

He moved closer to the desk, and saw that the snowman wasn't the only thing Elsa had created. Her desk was covered with miniature ice sculptures. There was a reindeer, a sled, a fountain that bubbled with snowflakes instead of water, and a perfect small-scale replica of Elsa's mountain house, each as sparkling as a flawless gem.

 _Almost as flawless as their creator_ , Kristoff thought, feeling a warm swell of affection for his Queen. He'd come to admire Elsa during their time as NP agent and witness – her brilliance, her laser-like focus, the single-minded toughness beneath her beautiful exterior. His admiration had only deepened since he became her personal bodyguard and seen the selfless devotion she had for her country.

He knew Colonel Gunnarsen disapproved of how he interacted with Elsa. It wasn't appropriate for Kristoff to be so…familiar with his principal. But Elsa was still a person, possibly the loneliest person in the kingdom, and even Gunnarsen wasn't going to begrudge the young Queen a friend.

As he watched, she waved her hand again, and a small, shimmering motorcycle formed in the middle of the desk, right on top of a stack of letters.

"You're getting really good at that," Kristoff said.

Elsa jumped, letting out a little cry, and a gust of arctic air blew around him. Her tablet tumbled to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I didn't mean to startle you." He picked up the tablet.

She cocked an exasperated eyebrow at him as she stretched her hand out for the device. "Kristoff…"

"I'm sorry, _Elsa_ ," he corrected. But he withheld the tablet. "You need to take a break, you haven't even changed your clothes. What's so important?"

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Just going over the final accounting from Weselton's assets. There may be entire countries that don't control as much wealth as he did. Yet he wasn't satisfied with that. He just had to have more."

Kristoff snorted. In his opinion, Weselton should have been executed for treason. King Haldor had thought so too. He had refused to delegate the Crown's Justice to the courts for the case, and had been on the verge of ordering gallows built in the courtyard. But Elsa had talked him out of hanging the little troll. Arendelle hadn't executed anyone in over a hundred years, and she didn't want to start that again.

So instead, for the crime of high treason, King Haldor had stripped Weselton of his citizenship and exiled him, declaring his assets escheat to the Crown. The repugnant little man would spend the rest of his life as a stateless refugee, dependent on the charity of some relatives on the Continent.

And Westergard… _hanging was too good for him_. He was a foreign national who had committed murder, and attempted to assassinate a member of Arendelle's royal family, which by any definition was an act of war. The fact that he hadn't known that Elsa was a royal had no bearing. He had tried to steal the Crocus Throne. _He should have been drawn and quartered_. But Elsa just wanted him gone.

So instead of swinging by his neck, Westergard had been banished, never to return to Arendelle under pain of death. Anxious to avoid a diplomatic nightmare, the government of the Southern Isles had been quick to agree to the terms. King Haldor nationalized all the Westergard interests in Arendelle, and Westergard himself would spend the rest of his life under house arrest at his family's estate in the Southern Isles.

Kristoff had personally escorted Westergard to the airport in shackles. The man had broken down in despair when he saw that two of his brothers had come with the Southern Isles' security team to take custody of him. He had actually begged Kristoff to take him back to Arendelle's dungeons. The brothers had assured Kristoff that Westergard would be far more miserable facing their father's wrath than he would ever be in prison.

Given Westergard's collapse into near-hysteria as the security team dragged him off, Kristoff thought that perhaps he'd gotten what he deserved after all.

Elsa took the tablet from him. "Anyway," she continued, "I've decided to use his assets to set up a fund to care for the families of National Police agents who are killed in the line of duty. And to reward citizens who render services to the Crown, like…"

Her voice trailed off, and she tossed the tablet onto the desk, sending a document fluttering to the floor. Kristoff retrieved it for her. The words "marriage contract" fairly leaped off the paper at him, and he found himself reading the letter without thinking.

… _proposal of a marriage contract between Henckel Graf von und zu Weissenfels of Upper Silesia and the Crown Princess Elsa of Arendelle…_

Kristoff stared at the letter, appalled. _What is this, the fucking eighteenth century? I knew there'd been talk about her needing to produce heirs, but I didn't realize…she hasn't even fully recovered from her injuries, for fuck's sake, and they're trying to marry her off already?_

"Ahem."

Kristoff jerked his head up, a brilliant blush spreading across his face as Elsa plucked the paper from his fingers. He straightened up. "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty, that was completely out of line, and I – "

Elsa waved her hand in a _forget-about-it_ gesture, then pointed at the stack of papers under the little ice motorcycle. "It's not the only one. It seems that every unattached male in the Northern Realms or on the Continent who has even one drop of royal blood circulating in his inbred veins feels the need to 'merge our noble houses'."

She shoved the letter into the stack. "I suspect what they really want is to merge their 'noble-but-miniscule' bank accounts with the Crown Treasury of Arendelle." She sank back into her chair and sighed.

Kristoff felt the temperature dip, a sure sign of Elsa's distress. She fluttered her fingers a bit, and the motorcycle sculpture on the desk pulsed with a faint blue glow. Then it seemed to change colors, taking on a greenish cast. Kristoff leaned over to examine it more closely.

It _had_ changed colors, and Kristoff sucked in a breath as he recognized it – an exact replica, down to the license plate number, of Anna Aarndahl's green Honda Rebel. It looked so real, he swore he could almost hear the engine throbbing.

Something else caught his eye – a corner of newspaper sticking out from under the stack of letters from inbred nobility. Taking a chance, he eased the newspaper out. It wasn't a whole newspaper, just a front-page clipping from the _Arendelle Daily Standard_. That now-notorious picture of Anna, breaking Hans Westergard's nose in the Nasjonsting.

He looked down at Elsa, who refused to meet his gaze. The color was high in her face, and he thought he saw ice forming around her fingertips as she wrung her hands together.

"Elsa. You know you have a say in all this, right?"

She looked up at him, her face an impassive mask, and he hoped he wasn't overstepping his bounds. "Don't let those assholes on the Council guilt you into anything. Please, don't let their fear drive you to do something that will make you miserable."

"But can you really blame them, Kristoff? A few more inches…" Her hand went to her chest, rubbing in a little circle. "We could have ceased to exist as a sovereign nation. Or maybe worse, kept our sovereignty and been ruled by those… _criminals_."

"You're barely out of your hospital bed. Besides, if you're going to be the Queen that Arendelle needs – _deserves_ – you don't need some chinless halfwit dragging you down. You need someone who can help you bear the burden. Someone you can trust and…" he tapped a fingertip on Anna's picture, "…love."

Elsa buried her face in her hands for a moment. When she looked up, she was the picture of anguish. "I know you've seen the tabloids, Kristoff. Any moderately wealthy, halfway decent-looking man who walks through the gates becomes a target of speculation, hounded by the press. There are still rumors about me and Agdar, for God's sake! He still can't get away from the vultures, and he married Idunn over a month ago!" She scowled at him. "And don't look at me like that. I know you've seen the pictures of you and me, too."

"Well, yeah, but the scum that work for those fishwraps don't pester me much," Kristoff said, but his neck heated up anyway. Yes, he'd seen the photos, the innuendos implied in the way he held Elsa's elbow or touched the small of her back when guiding her in and out of cars and buildings. There had even been one taken in the gardens, a grainy mobile phone pic that suggested much more than it actually showed. The groundskeeper responsible had immediately lost his job, and a livid Gunnarsen had threatened the entire staff.

"Of course they don't pester you, you're a walking side of beef who gets paid to be violent on my behalf." Elsa slumped in her chair and covered her eyes. "I can't…I can't subject her to all that, Kristoff, I just can't. It would be so unfair…"

He crossed his arms and stared at her. "So you're going to make that decision for both of you, _Your Majesty_? You're not going to give her a say or ask her if she thinks you're worth it? Not going to give _Anna_ a choice in all this? It's her life too, you know."

She glared at him, and the temperature in the room dropped sharply. He stood his ground and glared right back, willing himself not to shiver. "So which is more unfair?" he asked.

The staredown went on for a full minute, but Elsa looked away first. Her anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a wistful melancholy, and she stretched her hand out to run a finger over the little green motorcycle.

"I don't know what to do," she said finally.

"I have an idea."

He told her what he had in mind. Part of his brain screamed at him that it was a crazy idea, that he was _way_ out of line, that Gunnarsen would have his ass for breakfast when he found out. But all of that was obscured by Elsa's smile, the first real one he'd ever seen from her, a smile that could light the sky.

"Give me a few minutes to change," she said.

* * *

Anna shifted her weight carefully, each foot firmly planted on a branch and her back pressed against the tree's trunk for support. She raised her camera and aimed it over the fence at the back deck of a townhouse, focusing on the paunchy, fifty-ish man lounging in the hot tub, a goofy grin plastered on his face. The object of the man's grin sauntered into the frame, wearing nothing but a red thong, and handed him a cocktail. Anna's camera clicked and whirred as she took a series of high-resolution shots.

Anna was staking out the hideaway townhouse of the man, a partner in a venture-capital firm who was about to be put through a very nasty divorce proceeding. Anna had been hired by his long-suffering (and many-times-cheated-upon) wife to dig up dirt on her hubby. The guy had stock options worth several hundred million kroners, and the wife wanted a hefty chunk of it.

It hadn't taken her long to collect a mountain of dirt. Unfortunately for him, the guy had recently discovered a fondness for nubile male flesh, and over the past couple of weeks, Anna had photographed a veritable parade of tall, lithe, and relatively hair-free young men strutting through the premises.

The specimen visiting the townhouse tonight couldn't have been a day older than Anna herself. He was definitely of the smoldering Latin variety, with a head full of thick dark curls and abs you could bounce a ten-skilling coin off of. _God, he looks like he's been Photoshopped._ Those stock options must be really nice. Or maybe it was the hubby's bald head and poochy belly.

 _Nah, it's gotta be the stock options._

She clicked off a few more pics of the young Adonis as he descended the stairs into the oversized hot tub, then lowered the camera when the hubby pulled him closer and tugged his thong down. She had no desire to watch what came next. Besides, she'd collected enough garbage on the guy – including some embarrassing shots of a late-night hot tub romp with two naked Romeos who looked barely old enough to shave – to make him give up ninety percent of his net worth just to keep everything out of court. The pictures probably wouldn't sit too well with the other partners in Mr. Stock Options' firm.

The camera went into her backpack, hanging on a branch next to her, then she slung it over her shoulder, climbed down the tree, and crept out of the little park. It was getting close to midnight, and she probably needed go home. Feed Marshmallow, maybe play some video games with Olaf, if he was still awake.

Anna's life had taken on a routine most kindly described as obsessive monotony. She got up early and worked out, running miles through the city at a punishing pace or pounding on her heavy bag until she thought her body would give out. Then she went to work and went at it nonstop, eating from streetcarts and fast-food joints before stumbling home and trying to sleep. But most of the time, she couldn't sleep, and would end up playing video games with Olaf into the wee hours, knocking off only when his mom angrily ordered them both to bed.

She felt bad for getting Olaf into trouble, and tried to cut back on the gaming. But then she found herself prowling her apartment all night, staring out the windows and wondering about _what-ifs_ and other things that she had absolutely no control over.

Like Elsa.

 _Queen Elsa_ _now_ , she reminded herself, feeling a wave of self-pity. If it had been any of her other failed love affairs, she would have spent a few nights with a bottle of booze, crying her way into a drunken stupor, and then pushed it aside and gotten on with her life. And she'd tried that, God knew she'd tried it, but she just couldn't get away.

At first, it had been Kristoff and Agdar, keeping her updated on how Elsa was doing. And she appreciated it, she really did, but after a while, they could see how painful it was for her, and their calls and texts got fewer and farther between, until they just stopped altogether. And then it was the news media, with their speculation about Elsa's health and the constant digging into her background. Even then, Anna had weathered it, and thought she would be able to move on.

Then had come Elsa's first public appearance, and Anna's carefully constructed walls collapsed.

It was Yule morning, and Elsa had attended the traditional service in Arendelle Chapel, the first such appearance by a royal in years. Even on TV, Anna could see how thin and drawn Elsa looked, a pale shadow of her former self. But she was still breathtakingly beautiful, and Anna's heart soared and broke at the same time.

Anna crawled into a bottle and stayed there until the New Year.

It only got worse after that. There were a few more public appearances – Elsa opening the new legislative session in the King's stead; standing before the Nasjonsting for her affirmation as the heir; kneeling in Arendelle Chapel while the Bishop sanctified her as the Crown Princess. Every time she saw Elsa on TV, Anna forgot how to breathe.

The tabloids were the worst – gossipy rags not worthy of lining Marshmallow's crate that speculated endlessly on the young Queen's possible relationships with men ranging from Agdar to Kristoff to every inbred baron on the Continent. Thank God they had never learned the truth about Anna and Elsa. Anna's face-punch to Hans had been written off as an ugly spat between former lovers, and the paparazzi had quickly lost interest in her.

But jealousy still reared its ugly head every time she saw pictures of Elsa and Kristoff. Guilt always followed quickly. Guilt for feeling jealous when she knew there was nothing between them. Guilt for being happy that there was nothing between them, because Kristoff was a good man, and Elsa deserved a good man. If she was going to have to marry, she could do so much worse than Kristoff.

Anna sighed and ran her hand through her bangs. Of all the people in the world to fall in love with, she had ended up falling for a queen.

Still, she thought as she walked down the block to where she'd parked her motorcycle, there had been a few positives. Helga Sinclair, impressed with how she'd handled the Weselton surveillance, had steered a lot of business her way, all of it high-quality and high-paying. She found she had a gift for corporate penetration testing, and after a few freelance jobs, she'd been offered a full-time position with a security consulting firm. But she turned it down, knowing she was not cut out for the nine-to-five grind. Anna liked being her own boss.

And she'd tentatively reconnected with her remaining family. She saw Rapunzel and Eugene regularly, and she was godmother to their baby daughter Sunny, a chubby, golden-haired bundle of delight. She'd even reconciled with her aunt and uncle.

Anna cranked up her bike and headed home. _Life is good_ , she told herself. Her business was thriving, she had her family back, she wasn't dead, and she'd helped to save her country. All good things.

 _So why am I still so miserable?_

When she watched Elsa take the Queen's Oath in the Nasjonsting earlier today, it felt as though a door had slammed in her face forever.

She stopped in front of her apartment house and rolled her bike around to the side, parking it beneath a metal overhang. A black car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb next to her. Anna eyed it suspiciously, and when its engine turned off and the driver's door opened, she reached around to touch the pistol at the small of her back. Had the naughty venture capitalist noticed her and sent some muscle to teach the nosy little PI a lesson?

God, she almost hoped so. Kicking the crap out of someone might be just the endorphin boost that she needed right now.

Only one person got out of the car. A hulking, man-shaped shadow. Anna's hand dipped into her backpack for her taser, stopping only when she heard a man's voice say, "Anna?"

The man moved closer, and the meager glow from the streetlamp fell across his face. "Kristoff?"

"Shhh!" Kristoff said, putting a finger to his lips. Then he grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the car.

"What the fuck - ?" Before she could mount any resistance, Kristoff yanked open the car's back door and thrust her inside, slamming the door behind her. She grabbed at the door handle. "Kristoff, what the hell?!"

"Hello, Anna."

Anna froze. She hadn't even realized that she wasn't alone in the back seat. _That voice…_

She spun around and found herself looking directly into the crystal-blue eyes of Queen Elsa of Arendelle.

"Oh my God…"

Before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Elsa. Elsa stiffened in surprise and a flurry of frigid air whirled around them. Anna jerked back, mortified. "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? I'm not supposed to touch you, am I? There are rules about touching royalty, and you're the Queen now, and I'm not allowed to touch you without permission, right? I'm so sorry for - "

Her verbal hemorrhage was cut off by a pair of warm lips pressing against hers.

Before she could react, Elsa pulled back. "You were rambling," she said with a small smile, reaching up to touch Anna's cheek. "And you never have to ask if you can touch me." She drew Anna back into a hug.

Anna buried her face in Elsa's shoulder, breathing her in, lightheaded with the subtle hints of winter pine and spearmint. Elsa seemed almost…fragile in her arms, the bones of her spine and shoulder blades prominent even under the layers of clothing. Anna wanted to squeeze her tighter, to make sure she couldn't slip away, but was afraid she would shatter like a porcelain doll.

"I've missed you," she mumbled into Elsa's hair.

"I've missed you too." Elsa's hand traced circles on her back before sliding up to stroke her hair. "I don't think I really knew how much until today."

Anna broke the hug and slid her hands up to cradle Elsa's face. She just couldn't stop _looking_ at her. The woman in the car with her seemed a world apart from the regal queen she'd seen on TV earlier. Instead of being in the elegant updo, her white-blond hair draped over her shoulder in a loose braid, stray tendrils of it falling around her face, and she was dressed casually in jeans and a blue blouse and sweater. _This_ , this was the woman Anna had fallen for in a mountain hideaway all those months ago.

Her fingertips grazed over Elsa's features, tracing over the delicately arched brows and high cheekbones before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Elsa's breath hitched, and Anna let her fingers trail down to the base of her throat, stilling her hand for just a moment before pushing the collar of her blouse aside.

"Oh, Elsa…" she whispered, tears welling when she saw the puckered round scar just below Elsa's collarbone.

Elsa put her own hand over Anna's, pressing it flat against her chest, where Anna could feel the reassuring _tha-thump_ of her heart. "It's getting better," she said. "I think…it might be my powers, healing it somehow. They're all getting better." She gestured vaguely at her torso with her other hand, and Anna cringed a little as she recalled Elsa's emergency surgeries.

 _I wonder how many scars she has from all this. God knows I have a few…_

As though sensing her thoughts, Elsa said, "When I get a little stronger, I can have plastic surgery. If I still need it." Then she smiled. "But until then, no low-cut gowns for me."

Anna's fingers drifted back to brush over the scar. Elsa trembled, and then her lips were on Anna's, soft and gentle, yet still insistent. A brief flash of panic - _but she's the_ Queen _!_ – before the warmth of Elsa's breath drove it away, then her lips parted and Elsa's tongue touched her own.

When the kiss broke, Anna kept her eyes closed, struggling to get her breathing under control. "Elsa…maybe I shouldn't…I don't want to sound…why…?"

 _Why now? Why me, when you could have anyone in the world?_

"When I was sitting in my big empty office today, feeling sorry for myself and trying to rationalize why I shouldn't see you…someone…wise…pointed out that it wasn't just me being affected by that decision. That it was your life too, and you're entitled to a say in it." She cut her eyes toward the outside of the car, where Kristoff stood vigilant, and Anna suddenly knew without a doubt who that _someone wise_ was.

Elsa dropped her eyes to her lap, where her hands wrung together. "And I realized that I was being presumptuous, that I had taken your choices away from you. Again. Just like I did before, up in the mountains."

Anna caressed her cheek, then asked, "But why me? I'm hardly – "

"Because I love you."

Anna suddenly had trouble drawing breath, and she could barely hear Elsa over the pounding of her heart.

"Besides," Elsa said with a sly smile, "given how the Kjarensen branch of the family tree came to be, I'm not the first Frostahl queen to have a taste for somewhat… _scandalous_ relationships."

"Oh my God," Anna managed before Elsa pulled her into another kiss, soft and sweet and lingering, and when they parted, she asked, "What do we do now?"

Elsa brought her hands up in front of her. Snow spiraled between her palms, forming a ball that grew larger and larger, Elsa shaping and sculpting, and when the glow of her magic faded, she held a brilliant blue motorcycle helmet, made entirely of ice.

"Whoa…" Anna whispered. When she met Elsa's eyes, she saw them dancing with mischief.

"So what do you say?" Elsa grinned as she pulled the helmet on and flipped up the faceplate. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Anna's jaw dropped for a second, then she grinned and grabbed Elsa's hand, almost jerking her arm from its socket as she dragged her out of the car.

"Hey!" Kristoff's voice rose in protest as Anna pulled Elsa over to her Honda. They ignored him. Anna shoved her helmet on and they jumped on the bike. Just before she cranked it up, they heard Kristoff moan, "Oh shit, Gunnarsen's gonna kill me…"

"Hang on!" Anna said as Elsa's arms circled her waist. "I like to go _fast_!"

She gunned the engine and roared off down the street, her heart soaring as Elsa's delighted laughter rang in her ears.

* * *

 _The End_

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 _ **A/N** : And it really is this time. Mounds and mounds of gratitude to everyone who faved, followed, and reviewed! I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did! I honestly didn't think I would ever get this level of response to the story. It's been a definite labor of love._

 _A few people I want to call out: **Vesfarhloc** , my immensely helpful (and probably long-suffering!) beta reader - thank you so much for your comments, perspectives, and attention to detail. **Grrlgeek72** , for your patience, sense of humor, and absolute refusal to let me be lazy or take the easy way out of anything. And last but not least, **Issandri** , who has been with me pretty much from the beginning of this thing. **Toby** , thanks so much for your kindness, encouragement, and insights, as well as the wonderful art that you did for this story!_

 _Now, I'm going to take a little break from writing, catch up on my reading, maybe take up a little drawing, and then get back to the other Frozen stories I have in the works. Thanks again to everyone!_


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